IMAGE  EVALUATrON 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


h 


A 


/. 


1.0 


I.I 


121 


m  m 


in 
us 

US 


140 


IL25  III  1.4 


1 


2.2 


2.0 


1.6 


V] 


/] 


^?. 


»1>  •■; 


■^. 


''W 


'/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)  873-4503 


'^^^^^.^'^ 


4^ 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVl/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
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reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


□ 
D 

D 
D 

D 


0 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommag^e 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurie  et/ou  pellicul6e 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  g6ographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  init  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


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Bound  with  other  material/ 
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La  re  Mure  serrde  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
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appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanche^  ajouties 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  itait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  fiimdes. 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppiimentaires; 


Variout  pagings. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cat  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquis  ci-dessous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


D 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagdes 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pellicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxet 
Pages  d^coiordes.  tachet6es  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ddtach^es 

Showthroi*gh/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  prir 

Quality  inigale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  materii 
Comprend  du  materiel  supplimentaire 

idition  available/ 
Edition  disponible 


The  c 
to  thi 


I — I  Pages  damaged/ 

I      I  Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

ryl  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 

I      I  Pages  detached/ 

I      I  Showthro^igh/ 

I      I  Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I      I  Includes  supplementary  material/ 

□  Only  edition  available/ 
Seule 


Their 
possil 
of  thf 
filmin 


Origlr 
begini 
the  la 
sion. 
other 
first  f 
sion. 
or  illu 


The  la 
shall  ( 
TINUE 
which 

Maps, 
differ! 
entire 
begini 
right  I 
requir( 
metho 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc..  ont  6t6  fiimdes  d  nouveau  de  fa^on  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  fiimd  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqud  ci-dessous 

10X                            14X                             18X                            22X 

26X 

30X 

7 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X                             32X 

1 

pl8ire 
98  details 
iques  du 
nt  modifier 
xiger  une 
de  filmage 


d/ 
ludes 


The  copy  filmed  here  has  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Library  of  the  Public 
Archives  of  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


L'exemplaire  film*  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
g^nArositA  de: 

1^  bibiiothAque  des  Archives 
publiques  du  Canada 

Las  images  suivantes  ont  6t6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet*  de  l'exemplaire  film*,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  ImprimAe  sont  film6s  en  commengant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniire  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film6s  en  commen^ant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaltra  sur  la 
dernlAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  seion  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ".  le 
symbols  y  signifie  "FIN". 


aire 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  ma/  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  Included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
filmte  A  des  taux  de  reduction  diff^rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  fttre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clich6,  ii  est  film6  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gaurhe  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m^thode. 


by  errata 
led  to 

ent 

Line  pelure, 

fapon  A 


\    t 

i 

3 

32X 


t 

t 

3 

4 

5 

6 

IS 


ffiJ 


!iju 


7/ 


III 

7 


;:[-./o  ~- 


7 


<'}   .'\  re 


\i  ^'<('i  -  '^ /7 


/   yW  C 


r 


. ; '  ) 


fi-.//4d  "^^'^ 


i-    /!  i 


-^     >. 


sent  fi 
walke 
Beiiiii 
keepe 
while 

"I    SI 

Polbj 

ffiile  I 
head, 
thai  1 
said  t 


yO 


kj* 


/   ,'  .. 


■'  /  - 


>.'  .  L 


^sJ 


etif 


ARTjY  in  tlio  morning  the  lif?lit  lionse-keopcr  and  liis  jrraiKldauglitcr  went 
out  for  a  walU  alonj?  tlie  beacli.  Tlie  (jirl  had  just  come  down  on  a  visit 
from  fh(^  town,  and  she  was  curious  to  see  the  wreck  on  tlie  beach  slie 
had  ni'ticcd  tli(^  eveninjf  before.  The  wiiul  was  blowinjr,  and  the  air  was 
full  of  the  ceaseh'ss  monotone  of  the  I)reakers,  that  at  each  recurrent  burst 
sent  a  frothy  sheet  of  wat«!r  slidinjr  up  aci-oss  the  sand.  The  old  liiiht-house  keeper 
walked  linipinyiy  with  his  cane.  lie  had  been  wouiuled  in  the  knee  in  the  battle  of 
Bennin<flon  in  the  Revolution,  and  the  government  had  given  him  the  post  of  light- 
kee])er.  When  they  reached  the  wreck  they  stopped,  and  stood  looking  at  it  for  a 
while.  "  '  PoUji  Ann,'''''  read  the  young  girl;  and  then,  looking  at  the  ligure-head, 
"I  suppose  that  is  a  likeness  of  somebody."'  "Ay,  ay,"  says  the  old  man,  "the 
Polly  A)in.  She  was  an  unlucky  craft,  they  do  say.  She  went  ashore  here  in  a 
gale  last  October,  and  two  of  the  crew  was  drowned."'  Then  he  looked  at  the  figure- 
head, squinting  in  the  bright  light  as  he  did  so.  "  'Tis  like  enough,"  .said  he,  "  that 
that  be  the  likeness  of  the  daughter  of  the  owner."  "I  wonder  who  carved  it?" 
said  the  girl.      ""Tis  very  well  done." 


0 


ON  SNOW  SHOES  TO  THE  BARREN  GROUNDS 


5 


^\ 


DY    CASPAR  W.WHITNEY 


I 


^\\i  to  llic    iiortliw  est.  lu'iiiiiiiiiiy   b'li 


(l;iys"  joiiriicv  Ik'voihI  (Irciit  Sliivc 
Luke  iiiul  riimiiiiL;'  down  to  tlio  Arctic 
OccMii,  willi  lliHisoii  Jjiiy  as  its  eastern 
and  (Ileal  licai'  Jiaivcand  tlic  Coppci-niiiic 
River  as  its  western  l)oiindaries,  lies  the 
most,  complete  and  extendeil  desolation  on 
earth.  'J'hat  is  the  IJarren  Grounds,  the 
land  whose  approximate  ::3(I0.(I()()  scpiare 
miles  I  for  its  exact  area  is  iiiiknonn  i  is  the 
dwellinj,''-place  of  no  man.  and  its  storms 
and  sterility  in  its  niosl  noi'thevly  i)art 
are  withstood  the  year  round  hy  no  livin*,^ 
creature  save  the  musk  ox.  There  is  the 
timberless  waste  where  ice -laden  blasts 
blow  with  hurricane  and  ceaseless  I'ui'y 
that  l)id  your  blood  stand  still  and  your 
breath  "ome  and  <:-o  in  ])aiut'ul  stinpin<i" 
g'asps;  where  rock  and  lichen  aiul  moss 
r«'place  soil  and  trees  and  herhaye;  and 
where  death  by  starvation  or  freezing;' 
doji's  the  footsteps  of  tlu^  explf)rer. 

There  are  two  .seasons  and  only  two 
methods  of  penetrating  this  yreat  lone 
land  of  the  North — by  canoe,  when  the 
watercourses  are  free  of  ice.  and  on  snow- 
shoes  durinji'  the  fr(r/eii  period,  which  oc- 
cupies nearlv  niiu'  of  the  year's  twelve 
months.  The  deadly  cold  of  winter,  and 
greater  risk  of  starvation,  make  the  canoe 
ti'i[)  the  more  usual  one  with  the  few  Ind- 
ians that  hunt  the  musk-ox.  Hut.  because 
of  the  many  portages,  you  cannot  travel 
so  rapidly  hy  canoe  as  on  snow-shoes,  nor 
go  so  far  north  for  the  best  of  the  musk- 


ox  hunting;',  .lor  see  the  Barren  Grounds  at 
their  ix'st.  or  worst,  as  you  care  to  consid- 
er it.  Thai  is  why  1  chose  to  make  the 
attempt  on  snow-shoes. 

And  why  did  I  turn  my  face  towards  a 
country  which  seemed  to  hold  luniyht  for 
the  travellei'  bul  hardsliip^  Well — cer- 
tainly to  hunt  musk  (»x,  the  tnost  inacces- 
sible yaine  in  the  world,  and  to  look  upon 
his  habilat  at  the  period  of  its  uttermost 
desolation:  certainly  also  to  study  the 
several  tribes  of  Indians  throuj;li  which 
I  must  i)ass  on  my  way  to  the  Barren 
Grounds:  and  cii  ruitfe  to  hunt  wood- 
bison,  undoubtedly  now  become  the  rar- 
est jianie  in  the  world.  Possiljly.  too,  1 
went  that  I  mi<^ht  for  a  time  escape;  the 
hum  and  routine  soi-didness  of  the  city, 
and  breathe  air  which  was  not  surcharjred 
with  convention  and  civilization. 

Arthur  Ileminjj,  the  artist,  and  I  found 
ourselves,  Decemi)er  27.  1S!U,  at  Edmon- 
ton, the  end  of  the  i-ailroad.  We  had 
trav<'lled  on  the  Canadian  Pacilic  vid 
"Winnipeti'  and  Cal^-'ary,  and  throujrh  the 
land  of  the  Crees.  Blackfeet.  and  Sarcee 
Indians,  without  seeinj,'-  anything;'  so  pic- 
trvesque  in  the  way  of  costumiiif,'-  as  the 
AVinnipeji'  drajjoon  and  a  Sarcee  young" 
woman  respleiulent  in  beads  and  olitter- 
ing-  tinsel.  I  really  oujrht  to  include  the 
mounted  ])oliceman,  for  he  too  has  a 
uniform  which,  with  scarlet  jacket  and 
yellow -striped  breeches,  is  desei-ving  of 
greater  attention.     But  the  mounted  po- 


c 
o 

to 
o 

iZ 


o 
o 


o 

r 
c 

03 

H 
O 


fe 


3 


J 


tr 


INDS 


Gromulsat 
e  to  c'oiisid- 
o  niulvo  tlie 

e  towards  a 

iKiujjlit  for 

Well— (.,.1- 

ost  inact'cs- 

()  look  ii|)()n 

s  iittcniiost 

study  the 

)iij:li  wliicli 

mill  wood- 
uie  tlic  viir- 
■iihly,  too.  1 
escajx!  the 
>f  tlio  city, 
siircliarg't'ti 
on. 

nd  I  fouiul 
at  Ednion- 
Wc  had 
Pacific  v',6, 
lifoiij.-'li  tlie 
Mild  Sarcee 
in<^-  so  i)ic- 
liiiji'  as  tlie 
■('(H!  young' 
ind  ylitter- 
includo  the 
too  lias  a 
jacket  and 
serving-  of 
ounted  po- 


o 
o 

K 

► 

•< 


o 

r 

e 

o 


E5 


a 


r/ 


St 

f 


NORTHWESTKRX    RHITISH   AMERICA,  SHO^VING    HARREN    GROUNDS    AND    MR.   WHITNKV  S   ROL'TK. 


liceruau  lias  that  wliicli  is  i.ir  woi-tliier 
of  coiuiiKMit  tliaii  uiiiroriii.  He  has  the 
ivputalion  of  boiiiy:  tho  most  eU'eclive 
anil  of  tlie  Canadian  Interior  Dejjart- 
niont.  Ami  he  lives  \\\\  to  it.  These 
'■  Riders  of  the  Plains,"  as  they  are  called, 
l)atroi  a  country  so  larj^e  that  the  entire 
force  may  lose  itself  within  its  domains 
a'ld  .still  be  miles  upon  miles  apart.  Yet 
tlii^  comparative  handful  maintains  or- 
der among  the  lawless  white  men  and 
stays  di.scontentment  amonjj  the  restless 
red  men  in  a  manner  so  satisfactorily  and 
fso  unostentatiously  as  to  maive  some  of 
our  United  States  experiences  read  like 
those  of  a  tyro. 

The  success  of  the  Northwest  Mount4.Hl 
Police  may  1)6  accredited  to  its  system  of 
distribution  throughout  the  <>uarded  ter- 
ritory. Unlike  our  army,  it  does  not 
mass  its  force  in  forts  adjacent  to  liidian 
reservations.      Posts  it  has,  where  recruit- 


ing' and  drillinj?^  are  constantly  going  for- 
ward, but  the  main  body  of  men  is  scat- 
tered in  twos  and  threes  over  the  coun- 
try, riding  hither  and  thither — a  watch 
that  goes  on  relief  after  relief.  This  is 
the  secret  of  their  success,  and  a  ^ ystem 
it  would  well  repay  our  own  govern- 
ment to  adopt.  The  police  are  ever  on 
the  spot  to  advise  or  to  arrest.  They 
do  not)  wait  for  action  until  an  outbreak 
has  occurred;  they  aro  always  in  action. 
They  constitute  a  most  valuable  i)eace- 
assuring  corps,  and  I  wish  we  had  one 
like  it. 

Although  Edmonton  has  but  a  few 
hundred  i)opulation,  it  is  doubly  honored 
— by  an  electric-light  plant  wliich  illumi- 
nates the  town  when  not  otlierwise  en- 
gaged, and  by  a  patience-trying  railway 
company  that  sends  two  trains  a  week  to 
Calgary  and  gives  them  twelve  hours  in 
which  to  make  two  hundred  miles.      But 


I 


r»"" 


^^'^' 


xs^ 


JKV  S    ROL'TE. 


tly  going  for- 
'  intMi  is  scat- 
vcr  the  coun- 
lier — a  watcli 
ilief.  This  is 
and  a  ^ystem 
own  govern- 
i  are  ever  on 
lurcst.      They 

an  outbreak 
ays  in  action, 
hiable   peace- 

\ve  liad  one 

s  but  a  few 
ubly  honored 
w)iich  illumi- 
utL'erwise  en- 
■ying-  railway 
ins  a  week  to 
elve  hours  in 
I  miles.     But 


I 


I 


i 


ON   SNOW-SHOKS   Tf)   THE    HAKHKN   GKorNDS. 


no  one.  except  liicldess  travel h-rs,  at  Kd- 
inontnii  cares  a  rap  about  inlerinitlent 
electric?  iiji'lits,  or  raih'oads  that  ruti  pas- 
sengers on  a  I'reitrlit  schfdule,  so  lo.ig  as 
tli«'y  do  nnl  alVccI  liic  fur  li-adtv  Fur  was 
oi'iginally  liie  riiiHoti  d'etre  (>(  Kdnionton's 
e.sisteiM'c.  and  continues  tlie  principal  ex- 
cuse ol  :1s  being.  In  the  last  thrcf  years 
tlie  settlement  of  a  strip  of  land  soulli 
and  of  one  to  tlit*  north  has  created  a 
farming  or  ranching  contingi-nt.  i)ut  to 
date  of  my  visit  canned  goods  appeared 
to  remain  iln>  chief  artich-  of  sustenance, 
as  furs  were  ct-rtainly  the  iiiain  topic  of 
conve,  .sation.  Kdm(»nto:i  may  in  time 
«ln-elop  the  oasis  upon  which  it  is  built, 
i)etween  the  arid  plains  immediale'y  to 
tlie  .south  ;ind  the  n'-eat  lone 
land  to  the  north,  into  some- 
thing notal)ly  agricultural; 
but  for  many  years  the 
town  will  l)e,  as  it  is  today, 
the  gateway  of  the  well- 
nigh  boundless  fur-producing 
country  to  the  north,  and 
the  outlet  for  tli*'  number- 
less "l)acks"  gathered  by 
the  great  Hudson  15ay  C'om- 
l)any. 

And  what  a  company  is 
this  I — witli  the  power  of  a 
king  and  ibti  consideration 
of  a  partner.  A  monopoly 
that  does  not  monopolize,  it 
stands  alone  a  unique  (igure 


13 


WINNO'EO    DRAGOON. 


WAPITI-HUNTER. 


SAKcIlK    ItKl.l.K. 

in  the  commercial  history  of 
the  world.  (Jiveii  itschai'ter 
by  the  impecunious  Charles 
II.  in  1(570.  the  pioneers  of 
this  "(Jovernor  and  Com- 
pany of  Adventurers  of  Eng- 
land Trading  into  Hudson's 
Bay  "sailed  for  the  soulhci-n 
shores  of  St.  .lames  Bay. 
where  they  set  up  their  lirst 
post  and  took  ))ossession  of 
the  new  country  in  the  name; 
of  Prince  Rupert.  1  lere  they 
found  a  rival  French  com- 
l)any,  with  a  ])revious  char- 
ter granted  by  Louis  XIII., 
and  an  equally  keen  .sense 
of  Indian  barter,  .so  that  for 
many  years  there  was  more  lighting  than 
trading.  When  Wolfe,  on  the  Heights 
of  Abi-aham.  crushed  the  power  of  France 
in  C*ana(la,  the  French  company  entered 
upon  a  decline  that  linally  ended  in  dis- 
solution. But  in  their  stead  came  numbers 
of  Fnglislimen.  i)ushing  their  way  west- 
ward, eager  to  trade  for  the  furs  of  which 
they  had  heard  so  much  and  seen  so  little. 
Thus  many  trading- posts  came  into  being, 
and  eventually  ("about  1780)  combined  to 
form  the  Northwest  Fur  Company,  the 
longest-lived  and  most  determined  rival 
that  ever  disputed  trade  with  the  Hudson 
Bay  Company.  It  is  not  my  i)urpose  to 
fill  space  with  liistorical  research,  but  a 


14 


IIAIM'KKS    NKW    MONTHLY    MAGAZIXK. 


1 


iirif'f  skclrli  (if  this  «'(iiiiiiiiiy.  iiiitl  liow  it 
<'amo  ill  tin?  laud,  is  iicci-ssiiry  to  a  inoprr 
iiM(lt'i'staiiiliiijif  III"  tin-  <'<iiiiilry  into  wliidi 
1   Inipi'  III  carrv  fln'  n-aiiti'. 

TIk-  IIuiImim  |>ay  ('niii|)aiiy  lia<l  iml 
fi'a<'iH'(l  (iiil  to  a  vci-y  ;:rcal  cxtciil,  itciiiy 
(•(iMli'iil  witii  IJM'  riir  yalln'i'f(l  i)y  tlicir 
half  (lii/.i'ii  ■■  faclorics,"  of  wliicli  YorU 
l''ai'|iii'y  and  ( 'limcliill  were  llii-  cai'lii'st 
and  imunI  iiiiporlanl.  I'nl  tin'  Nni'lliucsl 
Coiiipaiiy  l)r()ii<,'lit  a  in'\v  spirit  into  lln- 
cuiiiitry :  tin-y  pn-^scd  l'urtra<l<'  with  sndi 
avidity    anti    dflcrniiiiatioii    as    to   cany 


..,.'4<flP'^ 


'.       •-•. 


SAUCKK    AXl)    SylAW    "AT    'lO.MK. 


tiit'iii  into  parts  liillicrto  ciitirc-ly  un- 
kiKtwn,  and  cause  Ijloodsiu'd  'Aiicnovcr 
tlicy  UH't  \\\v.  aiicuts  of  tnc  rival  coni- 
paiiy.  Il  was  the  yrccd  t'oi-  tradf.  in- 
deed, that.  (|aickened  the  steps  of  tin.' 
lirst  adveiiturei's  into  the  silent,  frozen 
land  of  the  North.  Samuel  Ileanie.  the 
lirst.  white  man  to  pass  heyoiid  (Jreat 
Slave  Lake,  made  his  trip  in  170!)  by 
order  of  the  Hiulson  l>ay  Company, 
and  in  search  of  copper-mines.  It  was 
in  i)ursuance  of  tradt?  for  the  North- 
west Company  that  Alexander  ^[ackenzie 
(1789)    penetrated    to    the    Arctic    Ocean 


(low  II  the  river  which  hears  his  name.      | 
have    never  heeii    ahle   to   see    the   justice 

ill   ll omiiiand  that  •cave   .Mackenzie  a 

kni^^hthood  and  i<rnore(l  Ileariio.  The 
Litter '.s  trip  was  really  a  most  reinarkah'" 
one  overland  a  ureal  part,  and  alwav: 
the  iiKU-e  «lilli<-ult.  Mackenzie's  trip,  as 
compared  with  it.  reads  like  a  .sumiiKu* 
days  pleasurin;^'. 

l"'or  forty  years   these   tw iiipanie.s 

traded  with  the  Indians,  and  foui>-hl  one 
another  at  v\i-\'\  opp<u'tuuity,  mejniwhile 
pushin;;'  their  posts  farlher  and  farlh'-r 
into  the  interior:  hul  in 
IS"j|  a  compromi>e  was 
eil'ected,  all  ainal;;aina 
lion  resulted,  and  the 
iludstui  r>ay  Company 
reiened  supreme.  And 
so  it  has  continued  to 
reiyn  ever  since  ;  for 
thoU{j;h  it  retired  from 
the  <roveriiment  of  Kii- 
pi'i'ls  Land  in  187(1.  and 
liaiuh'd  it  over  to  the 
l)omini(Hi  of  Canada  for 
i:;i(i(l.()()0  sterliiiff,  yet,  so 
far  as  the  country  is  con- 
cerned of  which  Kdmoii- 
Ion  is  the  dislrihiiting' 
p. )iiit,  the  Hudson  Hay 
( "ompaiiy  is  as  much  the 
ruhu-  ill  fact  as  ever  it 
was  in  law.  lint  this 
particular  .section,  exten- 
sive as  it  is,  is  only  one 
of  the  many  in  which, 
from  end  to  end  of  Brit- 
ish North  America,  this 
company  counts  a  I to<;eth- 

v,ui* J,  -.  ''I'    somethin;,''    like    two 

hundred     tradiii^r  -  jiosts. 
Nor    are     furs     its    sole 
commodity;    from    Mon- 
treal to  Vii  'oria  alone'  the 
Canadian    Pacilic    Railroad,   and    at   the 
centres  of  tin'  iiidian  countries  in  which 
they  trade,  may  he  .seen  the  'stores*  of 
the  Hudson  Bay  Comiiany.    ltsi;2.(Kl().(l(X> 
sterling;'  capital   stock   is  owned    in   Lon- 
don, hut  tin-  i)iisine.ss  of  the  vast  corpora- 
lion    is    o|)eiate(l     from    Wiiinipeji'.   with 
"  Commissionei' "   C.  C.  Chipman    as   its 
executive  head. 

One  surprise  at  least  awaited  me  at 
Edmonton.  I  had  exiiected  — I  will  be 
more  honest,  and  say  1  had  hoped — Ed- 
monton would  jirove  to  he  a  hit  untamed 
and    picturesque.      Tiu'  realization  of  ho- 


'.<<  liJH  iiaiii)-.      I 

Hc«  lln'  jiislici- 

('   .MacUciizir  :i 

Ilfiinio.      Tlif 

ft.  and  III  way.'. 
•  •ii/.ic's  trip,  as 
iUf  :i   Miiiiiiicr 

wo  com  panics 
nd  l'(iii;4'lil  one 
ity.  ini'an wliilc 
I'l-  .-ind  fai'lli'-r 
ilci'ioi':  liMl  ill 
inproinis(f  was 
n  ainal;:aina 
U.'d.  and  liio 
iay  Company 
ipfcmc.       And 

i'oMliniK'd  U> 
r    siiicr  ;      for 

rolii'cd  from 
timt'iil  of  l{u- 
l   in   187(1.  and 

over  tit  the 
of  Canada  for 
oi'liiif;',  y«'l.  .so 
'onntry  is  con- 
tvliicli  Kdmoii- 
1'    dislril)iitiiiy 

Hudson  ]]:iy 
s  as  miu'li  tiie 
lot  as  over  it 
w.  lint  tliis 
section,  exteii- 
s,  is  only  «tno 
ny  in  wliicli, 
o  end  of  liril- 
Ainei'ica,  tliis 
mntsallo<>etli- 

ny    like    two 

radiii<r  -  posts. 

ni-s     its    sole 
from    Mon- 

oria  aloii}^'  tlie 

,   and    at   the 

ries  in  wliicli 
e  *•  stores  "  of 

ltsi;2.0()().()0() 
viied    in   liOii- 

vast  c'orpora- 
iniiipc<j;-.   with 

ipman    as   its 

vailed  me  at 
d  — I  will  be 
1  hoped— Ed- 
hit  untamed 
i/ation  of  bo- 


i 


.1 


JtVi^r^  l^O^'..  t»^ 


HKKAKI.Mi  A  TKAIL  FOK  THE  UOU9. 


iii(f  oil  this  (*aiiadiuti  froiili(>r  raised  mem- 
ories of  oilier  frontier  days  across  ihe  line, 
when  Colorado  and  New  Mexico  were  wild 
and  woolly,  and  tiie  atmosphere  was  con- 
tinuously i)uiiclured  by  cowboy  whoops 
and  leaden  pellets.  Edmonton,  however, 
never  passed  throu<.fh  such  a  period  of 
real  exhilaration.  It  had  its  days  of  way- 
wardness, but  its  diversions  were  e.xceed- 
iiij;ly  commonplace.  A  few  years  ayo  it 
was  almost  surrounded  by  the  iiattlinff- 
ffround  of  the  Crees  ami  Jilaciifeel,  and. 
as  a  matter  of  cour.se.  harliored  red  as  well 
as  white  renegades;  there  was  little  law. 


and  that  little  was  not  respected  ;  Indians 
out  in  the  country  kille»l  oil"  their  foes 
from  ambush,  and  in  town  rcneyades  re- 
vealed their  coward's  blood  and  lack  of 
orifjiiiality  i»y  stabbing  tiieir  enemi<'s  in 
the  back.  There  were  none  of  those 
blood-stirring  niglits  in  town  such  as  we 
used  to  haveon  our  own  frontier;  no  duels 
on  the  main  thoroughfare  between  two 
prominent  citi/.ens,  uilh  th(>  remaining 
population  standing  by  to  see  fair  i)lay; 
no  cowboys  to  ride  into  .saloons  and  shoot 
out  the  lights;  no  marksmen  so  expert  as 
to  knock  llie  neck  ofl'  the  whiskey-bottle 


A 


^f.! 


^s*^"' 


'ff  ^tjlf 


M^ 


m: 


)ft.,*.fr5«' 


'^r=*^=*?:«*^^' 


AN  ENCAMPME.NT  NEAR  CALGARY. 


IH 


HAKI'KltS    NKW    MONTHLY    MVCA/INK. 


1 


A  MKDifiNK  mxn's  r.f)nriK. 


wiTslliiiy    Willi     liiiiisclf 
afU'f    ii     lioiil     w  illi    ■    10 

plonf."" 

Iiidfcd,  u  lini  I  >.»'|  mil. 
llii'  iiHiniiiiy  after  my 
ai'i'iviil.  Id  i:rl  ill!  in  rradi 
ii<'>N  ill  lli<>  one  (liiy  thai 
\vi'  iiiiylil  niak*'  IIm*  slarl 
lor  La<-  La  l!ic)i<'  on  llic 
sccoiiti.  I  (lonlili'd  if  iIk' 
cilizj'iis  liad  ever  heard  <»f 
lh<'  word  ■■  iiiiNlh',"  J  liad 
hci  n  th'layed  in  h-aviiiy 
New  VoiU.  (h'layeil  in 
having;  to  stop  over  al. 
Winnipeg  lo  ;;('l  lellers 
olCredil  rroni  llie  Hudson 
l>ay  Company,  and  now 
I  had  iinally  reached  thi; 
t'loiilier,  I  was  delermin- 
ed  lo  he  dela ye«l  n<»  hnijier 
if  ellorl  of  mine  woiihl 
provide  a;:aiiisl  il.  FirsI, 
'"     "     the   sin>ps  did  not 


l)rivale  l)urym<i;'-}rroiind.      lliis  is  iiol  a  I  lancied  due  to  a  eh>uded  sU.v.    At  last  the 

dislinelion  without  a  ditVerence,  as  those  shops   and    Iho  sun   opened    for  liie   «hi.v, 

wilii  frontier  experience  will  bear  me  out.  and   I   siicceeih-d  in  ectliny  every  one  «»ii 

I  fouiitl  Kdmonton  settled  into  ii  steady-  the    move.       Still,  we    should    not    have 

ji'oiiiti-    business  community,  with    maii.v  been   able   to  }^et  awa.v   nexM   day,  I    am 

hotels    and    few    saloons,  and    the    most  sure,  but    for    the    consideration    of    the 

excitiii<f  siylit  1   beheld   during   my  two  Hudson  Hay  ( 'oiii))any  factor.  Mr.  Li  vock. 

nights  and    a   day  stop  was  a   freiglitcr  and  bis  chief  aid.  Mr.  K'eiinard.  who  were 


(JOINf;    K(iU    AN    .\l"rKKX(H)N    1)UI\K    AT    KllM(iNTn\. 


ON    SNOW   SlloKS    TO    TlIK    l!AKi:i:N    (iUOLNDS. 


17 


witli     liiiii.si'ir 
ituiit    with    "ID 

wllCIl    I    Sft    Mllf, 

liny     iil'lcr     my 
I  yet  iill  ill  I'l-adi- 

K'    )IM*<    (lilV    llllll 
IM.-lUc    till-    Still-I 

.a  lliclir  on  I  hi' 
ihiiihli'd  if  Ihi- 
III  cv  rr  heard  nt" 
'  hiisth'."  J  had 
yi'd  ill  Iraviiiy 
•|<.  drJM.vi'tl  ill 
I  .slop  (iviT  at 
;•  to  yet  h'ttcrs 
niii  thi>  ]  liidsoii 
paii.v.  and  now 
illy  ri-achi'd  lim 

was  (h'lmiiin 
■layrd  no  loiiycr 
of  mint'  would 
;ainst  it.  First, 
'  shops  did  not. 
id  1,  I'orjictl'iil  of 
he  sun  in  winter 
I'orr  that  hour, 
lit  tlir  stri'i'ts  in 
iny  out  ofdoors, 
sky.  At  last  the 
h1  for  till'  day, 
<X  ^'\^^'\•\^  one  on 
oiild  not  hav(; 
icxt  (hiy,  J  am 
(■ration  (tf  tho 
tor.  Ml'.  IJvocU. 

Hard,  who  were 


kind  I'lioiiu-li  lo  ni'ul''"'!  lln-ir  hii-^iin'ss  to 
iitli'iid  to  mini-.  Til"'  oin'  happy  stroUf 
we  had  niadi'  was  in  ciiooHiny  I hr  (t)iH'i'n's 
fur  our  lioli>l;  it  wa>  i|iiiii-  hapha/.ard, 
IhiI  vi'iy  lin-ky.  Ili-ri'  1  I'oiuid  tiirhfst 
hiiaiil  to  whii-li  I  had  i-vi-r  sal  down 
in  a  ri'onlii-r  town,  and  ho^t  and  hoslrss 
that  did  nioi'c  for  nn-  during''  my  sojourn 
than  I  III*  l>ill  show«-d  or  I  could  repay. 

If  such  Hij>'nH  wore  trust  worthy.  I  should 
liavc  hi  en  much  clatcil  over  the  aiispi 
cioiis  weather  that  ruled  on  the  day  of  our 
departure  for  I/i  Ihche.  Truly  it  was  a 
beautiful  inorniny.  with  the  temp'  ratiire 
home    twenty   deyiees    l»eh)W   zero,   and    a 


not  for  ii  |»icnic.      I    knew  perfectly   well 
that   I  could  not  carry  in  a  >iillicient  sup 
ply   to    last    until    I    h.td    covered    tiie   '.((lO 
niile>  that  la\  helw  me  aiiiM  inat  Slave 

Lake,  hecaiise  uf  the  imp" 'smIu lit >  I'l  se- 
curing enoiiyli  doijs  and  sledires  to  fn  liihl 
it,  and  I  Knew  that  even  if  I  cmihl  eal  as 
a  civ  ili/ed  mail  until  I  reached  I  ha  I  point, 
I  should  he  oltliyed.  when  I  lH'::aii  my 
journey  iiitn  ihe  ISarirn  (Jrouiids.  lo 
ahaiiihui  all  hope  of  eiiliii;;  well,  or  even 
plentifully,  and  live  or  >laive  as  do  the 
Indians  on  their  annual  hunt  in  that 
ri'trioii.  Mesides.  the  ;4realest  essential  to 
Ihii  success  of  iiiy  trip  wa.s  speed.      1  liad 


OVV   FOK   LAC    LA    BICUK. 


glorious  sun,  which  touched  the  ice  cov- 
ered bushes  and  trees  with  sparkliiiy  hrill- 
iaiK'v;  and  when  we  started  on  our  175- 
mile  drive,  all  (^iiieeu's  Hotel,  and.  1 
judyeil,  half  the  town,  tui'iied  out  to 
bid  us  (lod -.speed.  We  h.td  two  yood 
liorsi's  and  a  strong'  box  sleiuh.  and  our 
hiad  was  not  heavy,  so  that  1  expected  to 
make  <fOod  time.  I  had  tal<eii  only  enough 
])i'ovisioiis  from  Ivlmoiilon  to  l.ist  us  to 
La  Hiciie.  There  was  iiiiich  that  1  could 
have  taivcii.  of  coiu'se.  in  tlie  way  of 
c.inni'd  veLi'elables.  meats,  elc.  and  which 
iniyht  have  s:ived  me  from  many  ;i  meal 
of  the  oftentimes  unpalatable  stull'  which 
I  secured  from  post  to  post.  Diit  I  was 
goiii},''  into  the  country  for  a  purpose,  and 


set  out  to  make  my  bisonhunt,  to  "■et  into 
the  Barren  ({rounds  for  tlu'  musk-ox,  and 
yet  back  ayaiii  to  (Jrejit  Slave  l^ake  on 
.snow-shoes — an  uii<lerti.kiny  that  had 
never  before  been  attempted,  and  win-  ! 
evei'v  one  assured  me  I  could  n()t  caiiv 
out.  It  meant  snow  shoeing  nearly  HKK 
miles,  and  left  no  time  for  leisurely  Irav- 
elliny,  but  I  w:.s  determined  t<>  ■•iccom- 
]disli  what  I  had  planned  if  it  lay  williin 
human  possihihties:  and  thus  it  w:is  that 
we  took  no  unnecessary  freight  from  VA 
nioiitoii.  for  ci  vi  li/ed  food  is  so  considered 
in  that  ereat  Norili  hind.  Tob.-icco  w;is 
the  only  article  of  which  I  look  a  great- 
er supply:  but  tol)acco  is  ii.  I  considered 
freiiiht  uplhere;   it  is  always  a  solace,  and 


I 


18 


HARPERS  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


I 


becomes  on  occasion  a  .stimulant  wIkmi 
there  is  no  meat,  and  an  irresistible  lure 
to  facilitate  intircourse  with  the  Indians. 
It  was  well  we  had  a  stout  sleigli,  for, 
much  to  my  astonishment,  the  snow 
seemed  not  more  than  a  foot  de.ip  :iny- 
where,  while  in  the  road  it  had  been  worn 
down  by  much  travel,  and  the  rocks  were 
numerous  and  agj^ressive.  We  made 
twenty-two  miles  by  noon  of  the  first  day, 
and  took  our  dinner  at  Fort  Saskatche- 
wan, tiie  most  northerly  post  of  the  North- 
west Mounlcd  Police.  Up  to  this  point 
of  tlie  day's  journey  tiie  road  had  been 
plain,  and  the  country  not  unpleasant  to 
the  eye.  In  fact,  in  some  ])arts  it  is 
rather  ])retty,  of  a  <;eneral  rolling-  char- 
acter, fringed  with  small  timber,  mostly 
of  the  p()j)kir  variety,  though  pine  is  fair- 
ly abundant.  It  looks  like,  and  is,  in 
trutli,  a  grazing  country  more  especially, 
though  the  horses  and  cattle  I  saw  (')( 
route  were  rather  jjoor — a  (condition  to  be 
])r(>bably  e.xpecUnl  in  aland  where  every- 
thing is  new  and  the  .settlers  lead  a  hand- 
to mouth  e.\istence,  as  all  settlers  do.  An 
Edmonton  enthusiast— I  think  he 
nnist  have  had  property  for  sale 
— assured  me  with  great  gusto 
that  the  land  around  that  town 
would  yield  from  35  to  75  bush- 
els of  wheat  to  the  acre,  and 
from  100  to  200  bushels  of  oats, 
the  latter  weighing  42  jjounds  to 
the  bushel;  the  timber,  however, 
lie  acknowledged  "  wasn't  much 
to  brag  on." 

The  one  well-defined  road  we 
had  been  following  all  day  broad- 
ened out  towards  sunset  into  a 
valley,  showing  in  turn  several 
depressions  in  the  snow — here 
much  deeper — which  we  assumed 
to  be  roads.  No  one  at  Saskatch- 
ewan was  able  to  direct  us  intel- 
ligently, and  not  a  .soul  had  been 
seen  since  leaving  there  from 
whom  we  could  ask  our  way. 
Grier.son,  who  was  driving  us, 
and  who  is  one  of  the  Queen's 
Hotel  proprietors,  had  never  before  been 
over  the  road,  but  his  bump  of  direction 
was  well  placed  and  abnormally  develop- 
ed. People  in  this  country  do  not  seem 
to  consider  knowledge  of  the  rouls  neces- 
sary to  reaching  their  destinatioi.  They 
.just  start  oft"  on  the  one  main  and  almost 
only  trail,  which  they  follow  to  its  end, 
when  thev  continue  on  in  the  direction 


G^Wfi 


r8< 


ONE  DP  TIIK 
FIKST  STKKI, 

KNrVKS 

TItADKI)  TO 

INDIANS. 


of  their  objective  jmint.  Roads  are  few 
and  far  between  in  this  .section,  and  dis- 
appear altogether  when  you  get  one  hun- 
dred miles  north  of  Edmonton.  The  al- 
leged road  to  La  Biche,  which  bears  to 
the  east  of  north,  is  the  longest,  and  the 
end;  beyond,  all  travel  is  by  dogs  in  win- 
ter and  canoe  in  summer.  Grier.son  knew 
that  Beaver  Lake  Creek  was  the  point  we 
were  booked  to  reach  that  night  in  order 
to  make  La  Biche  in  three  days'  travel 
from  Edmonton,  and  he  was  sure  it  lay 
to  the  northeast.  So  we  ])egg('d  on,  until 
iinally,  after  chasing  several  lights  that 
turned  out  to  be  the  wrong  ones,  and  once 
nothing  less  lofty  than  a  planet,  which  in 
this  far  North  hung  near  the  horizon,  we 
found  tlielog  cabin  of  Beaver  LakeCreek's 
most  distinguished  settler.  I  say  distin- 
guished, because  his  was  the  only  cabin 
in  those  parts  which  boasted  of  two  rooms 
and  a  second  story — an  extravagance,  he 
informed  us,  he  had  indulged  in  with  the 
idea  of  one  day,  when  the  section  in  which 
he  had  located  became  more  populous, 
putting  a  slock  of  niercliandise  into  the 
"other  room," and  utilizing  the  top  story 
as  a  dormitory  for  travellers.  I  con- 
cluded he  was  a  host  of  discernment,  with 
a  delicate  humor  for  inciting  reform  in 
his  guests  without  offending  their  pre- 
viously conceived  .sense  of  })ropriet3',  for, 
having  refreshed  myself  in  about  one 
and  a  half  inches  of  ice-water,  I  was  con- 
fronted by  this  black-lettered  legend  on 
the  cabin  door:  "Bad  luck  attend  the 
man  that  wipes  his  nose  on  the  towel." 

We  left  the  i)ioneer  of  Beaver  Tail 
Creek's  "400"  next  morning  before  the 
sun  was  up,  and  by  one  o'clock  had  gone 
thirty-eight  miles  to  Victoria,  on  the  Sas- 
katchewan River.  It  is  the  site  of  a 
Hudson  Bay  Company  trading-post,  and 
the  end  of  the  telegraph  line.  Once 
past  here,  the  most  rapid  means  of  com- 
munication is  the  "express,"  as  the  In- 
dian runner  is  called.  To  me,  as  sports- 
man, the  most  interesting  feature  of  Vic- 
toria was  the  fact  of  its  being  about  the 
northern  limit  of  wapiti  in  this  particular 
part  of  the  continent.  Formerly,  in  the 
days  of  the  bison,  wapiti  were  numerous, 
parl'cularly  near  the  Battle  River,  but,  al- 
though they  have  not  entirely  disajipear- 
ed,  they  are  not  now  plentiful,  and  are  to 
be  had  only  by  the  most  skilful  hunters. 
Because  of  this  the  Indians  living  near 
Victoria  resort  to  every  manner  of  device 
for  a  .shot,  but  with  inditt'ei'ent  success. 


I 


O 

% 

o 
d 
§ 

O 

> 
O 
n 


Roads  are  fow 
.section,  and  dis- 
.ou  get  one  liuii- 
lonlon.      Tlie  al- 
wliioli   l)ear.s  to 
longest.  :ind  tlie 
;  by  dogs  in  win- 
Griei'son  knew 
vas  tlie  ])oint  we 
it  night  in  order 
iree  days'  travel 
was  siii-e  it  lay 
l)egg<'d  on,  until 
eral    lights  that 
g  ones,  and  once 
l)lanet,  which  in 
the  liorizon.  we 
ver  Lake  Creek  s 
1'.     I  say  distin- 
the  only  cabin 
-ed  of  two  rooms 
xtruvagance,  he 
Iged  in  with  the 
section  in  which 
more   populous, 
andise  into  the 
tig-  the  top  story 
ellers.      I    con- 
scerninent,Avith 
iting  reform  in 
ding  tlieir  pre- 
l)roi>i'iety,  foi-. 
in    about  one 
ater,  I  was  con- 
ered  legend  on 
nek   attend  the 
n  the  towel." 
)f    Beaver  Tail 
ing  before  the 
clock  had  gone 
ria,  on  the  Sas- 
the   site    of  a 
uling-post,  and 
line.       Once 
means  of  com- 
ss,"  as  the  In- 
me,  as  sports- 
feature  of  Vic- 
'ing  about  the 
this  i)arlicular 
)rnierly,  in  the 
ere  numerous. 
River,  but,  al- 
rely  disappear- 
iful,  and  are  to 
vilful  hunters. 
IS  living  near 
nner  of  device 
ent  success. 


el 


pl| 
evj 

prJ 

bol 

ws 

or  I 

pei| 

to 

coil 

bul 

to 

leal 

poll 

thj 


sta 

ing 

reli 

if 

tra 

con 

sha 

not 

the 

to 

the 

my 

tnal 

resc 

cou 

hor 

giv 

ets, 

not 

rie( 

am 

pre 

era 

a  o 

mo 

oui 

stil 

for 

we 

she 

res 

tea 

gli 
ha 

we 
bIu 
lin 
ne 
uu 
Th 


i 


ON   SNOW-SHOES  TO   THE  BARREN  GROUNDS. 


5?1 


This  was  our  longest  day's  drive,  for  we 
had  made  very  close  to  eighty  miles  by 
eleven  o'clock  at  night,  when  we  camp- 
ed, and  the  road,  or  rather  the  multi- 
plicity of  roads,  of  the  afternoon  proved 
even  more  perplexing  than  on  the  day 
previous.  Our  direction  lay  along  the 
border  of  a  Cree  Indian  reservation,  and 
was  cross-sectioned  at  times  with  trails, 
or  at  least  what  in  the  snow  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  trails,  running 
to  the  four  points  of  the 
compass.  We  knew  we  had 
but  one  point  of  the  compass 
to  follow — of  that  much,  at 
least,  we  were  sure,  and  pro- 
portionately thankful  —  but 
that  point  seemed  to  be  such 
a  broad  one  we  were  con- 
stantly at  a  loss  for  our  bear- 
ings. I  should  be  very  much 
relieved  to  know  positively 
if  there  was  indeed  any 
trail  taking  a  northeasterly 
course  that  escaped  us,  and 
shall  always  regret  I  did 
not  return  by  that  route  in 
the  spring  on  my  way  back 
to  the  railroad,  and  when 
the  snow  had  disappeared,  just  to  satisfy 
my  curiosity  on  that  score.  We  were 
making  for  the  White-Fish  Lake  Indian 
reservation,  where  we  had  been  told  we 
could  find  feed  and  a  covering  for  the 
horses,  and  a  schoolmaster  who  would 
give  us  a  place  to  throw  down  our  blank- 
ets, and  the  best  of  his  larder.  We  were 
not  concerned  for  ourselves,  for  we  car- 
ried enough  to  provide  a  substantial  meal, 
and,  I  think,  all  three  of  us  would  have 
preferred  sleeping  in  the  open  to  the  av- 
erage cabin.  But  the  mercury  had  fallen 
a  great  many  degrees  since  leaving  Ed- 
monton, a  cutting  wind  was  blowing,  and 
our  horses  were  pretty  well  worn,  with 
still  forty-five  miles  to  go  the  next  day  be- 
fore reaching  La  Biche.  This  was  why 
we  pushed  on,  hoping  every  turn  would 
show  the  light  in  the  distance  that  meant 
rest  for  us  and  an  extra  feed  for  our 
team.  We  finally  reached  some  strag- 
gling cabins  of  the  reservation,  but  should 
have  been  searching  for  that  light  yet  if 
we  had  not  roused  an  Indian  from  his 
slumbers,  whom  Grierson,  by  some  start- 
ling Cree  vocalization,  the  like  of  which  I 
never  heard  before  nor  since,  at  length 
made  understand  what  we  were  after. 
Then  this  drowsy  child  of  nature  led  the 

Vol.  XCII.— No.  547.-2 


THK  COPPER  KKTTI.B  IN  WHICH  WE 

BIIEWBU  TKA    FOll  TWENTY-SIX 

UUNDBEU  UILK8. 


way  to  a  schoolmaster,  but  not  to  the 
schoolmaster  we  had  been  seeking,  whose 
house  was  a  few  miles  farther  on,  we 
subsequently  learned. 

The  schoolmaster  we  found  was  a 
study  in  filth.  He  lived  like  a  dog  in  a 
wretched  kennel,  and  talked  like  a  cock- 
ney Englishman;  indeed,  he  confided  to 
me,  the  following  morning,  that  he  liad 
come  from  London,  and  was  living  there 
chiefly  to  learn  the  Cree  lan- 
guage, that  he  might  later 
preach  "Jesus  to  the  way- 
ward heathen."  Meanwhile 
he  was  educating  him.  This 
cockney's  one  idea  of  educa- 
tion seemed  summed  up  in 
the  single  word  coercion.  If 
the  Indians  gathered  for  the 
dances  of  their  tribe,  he  scat- 
tered them ;  if  they  played 
the  games  of  their  child- 
hood, he  stopped  them ;  if 
they  asked  for  reasons,  he 
told  them  it  was  the  devil 
in  them  that  they  exploited 
and  which  he  wished  to 
cast  out.  A  logical  way, 
forsooth,  of  educating  tlie 
And  this  is  why  we  find 
the  broken-spirited  India'  who  realizes 
he  is  the  creature  of  an  all-powerful 
master  whose  Avays  he  cannot  under- 
stand, so  often  "converted,"  but  onlj'  in 
individual  cases  educated  and  civilized. 
He  is  "converted"  because  it  requires 
only  outward  acquiescence,  and  he  finds 
his  material  life  made  pleasanter  there- 
by. He  is  willing  to  change  his  "  Great 
Spirit"  for  the  white  man's  "Great  Spir- 
it" when  a  few  beads  or  an  extra  ration 
make  the  trade  inviting.  But  he  can- 
not be  educated  without  being  first  civil- 
ized, and  he  cannot  be  civilized  because 
in  most  cases  the  white  man  does  not 
know  how,  or  does  not  find  it  to  his 
interest,  to  make  the  attempt  in  a  ra- 
tional way.  At  present  he  distrusts,  and 
sees  only  that  he  is  being  "civilized" 
off  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  remembers 
the  white  man  in  his  successive  roles  of 
welcomed  guest,  greedy  hunter,  settler, 
and  exterminator.  I  am  not  dealing  in 
heroics,  and  every  one  knows  that  the 
savage  must  disappear  before  the  civil- 
ized man ;  but  if  we  are  to  attempt  the 
civilization  of  those  that  remain  let  us 
first  endeavor  to  gain  iheir  confidence, 
and  then  follow  it  up  by  methods  which 


ignorant! 


22 


HARPER'S    NEW   MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


they  can  grasp.  It  is  not  to  be  done 
in  one  season,  nor  in  two;  the  civilized 
red  man  cannot  he  l)ronglit  forth  fiill- 
fled<,''ed,  as  from  a  patent  incubator;  ho 
can  ije  evolved  only  after  lonj,''  periods  of 
gradual  and  natural  dtivelopnient;  yet  we 
expect  liy  mere  word  of  mouth  to  make 
him  i'or.sake  the  sentiments  of  a  lifetime, 
of  generations  of  lifetimes.  At  the  same 
time  he  should  realize  there  is  a  law  in 
the  land  which  punishes  and  protects  him 
as  thorouglily  as  it  does  the  white  man. 
He  should  not  he  allowed  to  escape 
with  no  severer  penalty  for  furtive  war- 
path festivals  tlian  that  of  being  merely 
lierded    back    to    his    reservation,   when 

white  men  equal- 
ly guilty  would 
be  hanged  or 
shot.  The  surest 
way  of  civilizing 
the  Indinn  is 
through  his  chil- 
dren, and  po.ssi- 
bly  theirchildren 
in  turn  will  cease 
to  remember  that 
once  their  ances- 
tors roamed  over 
thecountryhmit- 
ing,  and  learning 
the  lessons  of 
their  common 
mother  Nature, 
instead  of  living 
fenced  in  on  a  res- 
ervation, plough- 
ing,and  studying 
the  precepts  of 
the  white  man. 

We  left  the 
Indian  reformer 
early  the  next 
morning,  after  a  broken  night's  rest  on 
a  dirtier  iloor  than,  I  think,  I  ever  saw 
in  an  Indian  lodge.  We  must  have 
proved  a  blessing  to  that  fellow,  for  we 
put  money  in  his  i)urse,  and  such  a  meal 
in  his  stomach  as  I  fancy  he  had  not  had 
for  many  a  long  day.  The  weather  had 
grown  colder,  and  one  of  our  horses  gone 
lame,  but  our  big  fur  coats  to  keep  out 
tlie  one,  and  mustang  liniment  to  re- 
lieve the  other,  put  us  in  travelling  shape. 
We  had  broken  our  sleigh,  and  patched  it 
up  again  before  we  camped  for  our  noon- 
day meal  in  a  squall  of  snow,  but  we  had 
covered  by  that  time  a  good  half  of  the 
distance  which  the  previous  night  sepa- 


liLANKET  CLOTHING   OP   TIIK    EAItl.Y 

WINTBIl,  BBFOKB   EXCKSSIVE 

COLD  OB.MAMDS  FUUiJ. 


rated  us  from  our  destination.  As  we 
neared  La  Biche  we  renewed  our  troubles 
over  diverging  roads,  but  this  time  our 
direction  was  .so  accurate  that  the  delay 
was  inconsiderable.  Moreover,  there  were 
others  abroad;  for  the  morrow  was  New- 
Year's,  and  Indians  and  half-breeds  were 
n)aking  their  w.iy  to  the  company  post  to 
partake  of  the  feast  which  is  provided  for 
them  annually.  They  came  from  either 
side,  and  fell  into  the  now  well -beaten 
track  wo  were  all  travelling;  men  and 
women,  old  and  young,  some  walking, 
but  the  majority  riding  in  a  sort  of  box 
set  upon  runners,  locally  known  as  a 
"jumper,"  a)id  drawn  by  a  nondescript 
kind  of  beast  which  we  discovered  upon 
close  scrutiny  to  be  an  undersized,  un- 
derfed horse,  but  that  more  nearly  re- 
sembled an  overgrown  jack-rabbit.  And 
thus  with  the  dying  sun  of  the  last  day 
of  1894  we  made  our  entree  into  Lac  La. 
Biche  with  the  gathering  of  the  clans. 

I  do  not  believe  I  had  ever  been  in  a 
more  advanced  state  of  exhilaration  than 
on  first  viewing  the  unsightly  cabins  of 
the  La  Biche  post.  Farther  along  on  my 
trip  I  felt  a  deeper  thankfulness,  when 
hope  had  almost  fled,  and  mind  and  body 
were  too  jaded  to  rejoice,  but  now  I  Avas 
as  a  boy  given  an  unexpected  holiday, 
who  wanted  to  shout  and  throw  his  cap 
into  the  air;  for  here  at  last  I  beheld  the 
actual  frontier,  and  the  real  starting-point 
of  my  journey.  It  was  not  that  the  trip 
from  Edmonton  had  been  so  long  or  so 
hard,  for,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  plea- 
sant and  easy,  but  it  was  the  realization  of 
being  on  the  scene  of  action,  so  to  say. 
When  one  has  planned  an  adventure, 
and  discussed  ways  and  means  and  dan- 
gers, there  is  a  satisfaction  in  reaching 
the  base  of  operations;  and  when  one's 
friends  have  tried  to  dissuade  and  na- 
tives to  intimidate  you,  there  is  added  to 
satisfaction  that  other  feeling,  which  puts 
you  on  edge,  fires  your  blood,  and  makes 
you  keen  to  toe  the  mai-k  and  be  otf.  It 
was  a  blessing  I  arrived  in  such  a  humor, 
for  it  was  sorely  tried  at  La  Biche  during 
the  three  vexing  days  we  were  compelled 
to  spend  there.  I  had  a  premonition  we 
were  going  to  run  against  a  snag  when  I 
saw  Gairduer,  the  Hudson  Bay  Company 
officer  in  charge,  saunter  out  of  his  cabin 
to  greet  us;  and  Wiien  he  asked  if  we  were 
not  ahead  of  time,  in  a  tone  that  implied 
he  would  have  been  better  pleased  had  A\e 
been  overdue,  I  felt  convinced  we  weie 


'9 


s 

a 
b 
n 

St 

h 
ti 
ol 
tr 
tl 

u 
a 
th 
us 

y 

a 


f 


lation.      As  we 

vei\  our  troubles 

t  this  time  our 

that  tiie  delay 

over,  there  were 

)rrow  was  New- 

lalf-breeds  were 

jonipaiiy  post  to 

1  is  ijrovided  for 

inie  from  either 

)w  well -beaten 

ling:;  men  and 

some   walking, 

n  a  sort  of  box 

y    known    as  a 

,'  a  nondescript 

liscovered  ujion 

undersized,  un- 

lore   nearly  re- 

;k-rabbit.     And 

of  the  last  day 

•ee  into  Lac  La. 

:)f  the  clans. 

ever  been  in  a 

:hilaration  than 

ghtly  cabins  of 

er  along  on  my 

ikfulness,  when 

mind  and  body 

,  but  now  I  was 

pected   holiday, 

throw  his  cap 

ist  I  beheld  the 

stai'ting-point 

ot  that  the  trip 

so  long  or  so 

ict,  it  was  plea- 

le  realization  of 

tion,  so  to  say. 

an   adventure, 

cans  and  dan- 

>n  in   reaching 

d  wlien  one's 

uade   and   na- 

re  is  added  to 

ng,  which  puts 

)od,  and  makes 

ind  be  otf.     It 

such  a  hunioi', 

a  Biche  during 

ere  compelled 

remonition  we 

a  snag  when  I 

Bay  Company 

ut  of  his  cabin 

ked  if  we  were 

e  that  implied 

leased  had  \\e 

iced  we  weie 


ON   SNOW-SHOES   TO   THE   BARREN   GROUNDS. 


going  to  be  delayed.  We  were  a  day  in 
advance  of  our  schedule,  having  taken 
but  three  instead  of  four  days  from  Ed 
monton.  but  as  an  "express"  had  been 
sent  Gairdner  two  weeks  before  to  warn 
him  of  our  arrival,  and  as  the  prepara- 
tions were  only  the  making  of  two  pairs 
of  snow-shoes,  and  tlie  engaging  of  two 
trains  of  dogs  and  drivers,  I  could  not  see 
that  our  coming  was  ill-timed. 

I  think,  nevertheless,  he  was  glad  to  see 
us  (especially  Grierson,  who  had  brought 
along  a  flask),  and  he  certainly  shared 
the  best  of  his  house  with  us.  He  told 
us  we  had  come  at  the  best  time  of  the 
year  to  see  the  Indians;  that  they  were 
always  given  a  feast  and  a  dance  on  New- 
Year's,  and  that  some  of  them,  hearing  of 
our  arrival,  would  probably  drop  in  that 
night  to  dance  a  little  for  us.  Well, 
they  did  "drop  in," and  they  as  certainly 
danced,  though  not  a  "  little."  Heavens ! 
liow  those  creatures  danced,  and  what  an 
atmosphere  and  a  racket  they  created  in 
that  house  I  They  began  to  arrive  .shortly 
after  we  had  finished  supper,  shaking 
hands  with  us  solemnly  on  entrance,  and 
eying  us  stealthily  after  seating  them- 
selves in  rows  against  the  walls.  Then 
one  of  them  produced  a  fiddle,  and  from 
the  time  the  first  measure  was  .sounded,  I 
think  there  was  no  cessation  until  about 
two  o'clock  the  following  morning. 

For  a  while  the  exhibition   was  rath- 


23 


AX    EDMONTON    FREIGHTER. 


HALF-BREED    DOG-DRIVER. 


er  interesting,  though  never  very  novel. 
The  common  dancing  of  Indians  appears 
to  be  about  the  same  all  over;  there  is 
but  one  type,  though  it  may  assume  dif- 
ferent expressions,  accoi'diiig  to  prejudice 
or  locality.  Either  they  sliuffle  around 
In  a  circle,  or  tliey  hop  from  one  foot  to 
the  other  in  lines  or  .separately,  or  they 
do  all  three,  with  more  or  less  vigor  and 
with  or  without  costuming.  At  La  Biche 
the  dancing  is  not  of  the  Indian  type,  it 
is  of  the  kind  one  sees  in  the  half-breed 
camps  of  Canada,  and  consists  of  a  species 
of  jigs  and  reels  gone  thi./ugh  at  a  pace 
that  makes  you  dizzy  only  to  watch.  They 
have  their  dances  where  several  couples 
perform,  but  the  most  ])opular  seemed  that 
in  which  separate  couplesengaged, as  nmny 
as  the  floor  would  accommodate.  These 
face  one  another,  and  the  man  enters  upon 
a  vigorous  exploitation  of  the  double- 
shuffle,  which  he  varies  with  "pigeon 
wings,"  and  Heaven  knows  what  not,  al- 
ways making  the  greatest  noise  of  which 
he  is  capable.  Noise  and  endurance,  I 
was  given  to  understand,  are  the  two 
requisites  to  good  dancing;  but  men  and 
women  of  course  wear  moccasins,  and 
only  on  occasion  have  board  floors  to 
dance  on.  It  was  my  luck  to  happen 
along  at  one  of  those  "  occasions,"  and  to 
be  further  tortured  by  a  half-breed  com- 
pany .servant,  whose  great  pride  was  a 


24 


HARPER'S    NEW   MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


ONK 


heavy  pair  of  white  man's  hoots,  which 
lie  never  wore  except  when  threadin<f  the 
giddy  maze. 

Half-breeds— French  and  Cree— consti- 
tute the  larger  share  of  population  at  La 
Biche,  if  I  may  class  as  its  population 
tiiose  scattered  over  the  immediately  sur- 
rounding country,  and  wliere  the  settle- 
ment consists  of  just 
three  cabins  besides 
the  Hudson  Bay  Com- 
pany's. But,  after 
all,  the  French  l)lood 
reveals  itself  chiefly 
in  a  few  Christian 
names  and  in  the 
more  fanciful  color- 
ing and  use  of  some 
articles  of  wear,  for 
tiiere  is  little  French 
spoken,  the  children 
of   mixed   parentage 

almost  invariably  adopting  the  mother- 
tongue,  Cree.  There  are  not  more  than 
one  hundred  Crees  who  come  into  La 
Biche,  which  is  the  most  northerly  post 
where  treaty  money  is  given,  and  they 
are  not  thriving  to  any  very  great  extent, 
nor  increasing.  Tlie  annuity  of  about 
five  dollars  a  head  is  not  sutlicient.  to  sup- 
port and  just  enough  to  interrupt  keen 
hunting;  they  plant  a  few  potatoes,  which 
grow  here  fairly  well,  but  are  making  no 
])rogress  towards  self-su))port,  as  are  those 
of  the  same  nation  more  to  the  .south. 

After  wiuit  I  liad  seen  the  night  before 
of  the  preliminaries  to  the  annual  feast- 
day,  I  did  not  expect  on  New- Year's  to  be 
able  to  make  any  jjreparations  for  our 
further  progress.  Long  before  we  had 
turned  out  of  our  blankets  the  house  was 
il*.erally  packed  with  Indians,  and  by  noon- 
time the  fiddle  was  going  and  the  dancers 
had  entire  possession  of  the  floor.  I 
doubt  if  I  ever  saw,  outside  of  some  of 
the  Ciiinese  dens  in  San  Francisco,  so 
many  crowded  into  the  same  space.  I 
lacked  the  heart  to  talk  business  with 
Gairdner,  who,  I  divined  from  some  of 
his  remarks,  had  not  accompli&^t'l,  in  the 
way  of  making  ready  our  dog  brig^  j,  all 
I  had  expecteu  of  him.  I  simply  pitied 
him  for  the  unpleasant  and  malodorous 
fulness  of  his  home,  and  I  pitied  his  half- 
breed  wife  and  her  daughters,  who  were 
kept  cooking  for  and  feeding  half-starved 
Indians  from  early  morn  until  late  into 
the  night.  Heming  took  his  pencil  and 
scratch  pad  and  I  my  camera,  and   we 


MADm  BEAVBU"  TOKKN,  FOIIMEIU.Y   ISSUED 
BY   TIIK   HUDSON    BAY   COMPANY. 


went  out  to  see  the  New-Year'sday  ar- 
rivals and  the  dogs  and  the  Indians. 

In  froiit  of  the  fort's  stockade  were 
gossi])ing  groups  that  grew  with  each 
fresh  arrival,  .vhile  scattered  all  about 
the  enclosure,  just  where  their  drivers 
had  left  them,  were  the  dog  trains  of  the 
Indians  .ho  had  come  to  fill  Gairdner's 

house  and  eat  the 
Hudson  Bay  Compa- 
ny's meat.  There 
was  no  stabling  nor 
feasting  for  these 
dogs;  in  a  <J4°  below 
zero  atmosphere  they 
stretched  out  in  the 
snow  and  waited, 
without  covering, 
and  in  many  cases 
without  food.  The 
Indians  with  their 
blanket  coats  or  ca- 
potes, and  the  dogs  and  sledges  and  "jump- 
ers," made  a  picturesque  whole  against 
the  unbroken  background  of  snow,  but, 
like  all  Indian  i)ictures,  its  attractiveness 
faded  away  on  the  close  inspection  that 
discovered  the  dirt  of  the  man,  and  the 
scraggy,  half -starved  condition  of  the 
beast.  These  people  had  never  before 
seen  a  camera,  and  many  of  my  plates 
show  them  scurrying  away  or  turning 
their  backs.  It  was  only  after  the  most 
elaborate  descriptions  to  Gairdner,  who 
instructed  ihe  interpreter,  who  explained 
to  the  Indians,  that  we  induced  one  or 
two  "types"  to  sit  in  our  presence  while 
Heming  sketched  them.  They  thought 
we  were  making  "medicine"  against 
them,  but  were  won  over  by  Heming 
drawing  the  moose  and  caribou,  while 
they  watched  the  animals  they  knew  so 
well  develop  undei*  his  pencil. 

When  we  returned  to  the  house  the 
dance  was  still  on;  it  was  always  "on" 
during  the  first  thirty-six  hours  of  our 
stay  at  La  Biche.  Formerly  the  Hud- 
son Bay  Company  officers  merely  "  re- 
ceived" on  New- Year's  day;  but  as  the 
Indians  have  a  custom  between  sexes 
of  kissing  on  meeting,  and  as  it  did  not 
become  an  impartial  officer  to  distinguish 
in  this  respect  between  old  women  and 
young,  unattractive  and  attractive,  the 
feast  was  substituted;  so  now  the  women 
are  fed  and  danced  instead  of  being  kissed. 
I  hope  that  New- Year's  night  will  not 
be  recorded  against  me.  Those  Indians 
danced  until  four  o'clock  in  the  morniiig. 


B 
o 


o 

St 
H 

► 
6D* 

o 

> 

Hi 


!w-Year'sday  ar- 
the  Indians. 
s   stockade  were 
grew   with    eacli 
ttered    all   about 
3re  their  drivers 
dog  trains  of  the 
to  fill  Gairdner's 
se    and    eat    the 
ilson  Bay  Compa- 
5    meat.       There 
;  no  stabling  nor 
iting     for     these 
s;  in  a  Z^°  below 
)  atmosphere  they 
tched  out  in  the 
w     and     waited, 
liout       covering, 
.   in   many  cases 
liouu  food.      The 
ians    with    their 
iiket  coats  or  ca- 
Bdgesand  "jump- 
le   whole  against 
nd  of  snow,  but, 
its  attractiveness 
e  inspection  that 
^he  man,  and  the 
condition   of  the 
ad   never   before 
ny  of  my  plates 
iway  or  turning 
y  after  the  most 
Gairdner,  wlio 
r,  who  explained 
induced  one  or 
|r  presence  while 
They  thought 
dicine "    against 
er  by   Heming 
caribou,  while 
Is  they  knew  so 
ncil. 
the  house  the 
s  always  "on  " 
X  hours  of  our 
erly  the  Hud- 
rs  merely  "  re- 
ay;  but  as  the 
between   sexes 
id  as  it  did  not 
r  to  distinguisli 
Id  women   and 
attractive,  tlie 
ow  the  women 
of  being  kissed, 
night  will  not 
Those  Indians 
n  the  morning. 


4 


o 

n 

H 

C 

► 
se 

► 


86 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


and  they  ihiiiccd  to  iiiv  utter  (](>iii()r:iliza- 
ti«)n.  We  sat  arouiul  and  waiclied  the 
"gymnastics"  and  protcndt'd  we  enjoyed 
tlieni  until  about  one  o'clock  ;  then  we  re- 
tired. We  all  three  slept  in  Gairdner's 
oflice,  a  tiny  apartment  .separated  from 
the  main  room  by  a  thin  l)oard  partition, 
of  wliich  a  good  quarter  section  in  the 
centre  was  removed  to  admit  of  the  two 
rooms  sharing  a  single  stove.  There 
wa  •  a  ,:iece  of  loosened  slieet-iron  tacked 
to  the  partition  to  protect  it  from  the 
lieat,  and  my  liead  was  against  that  par- 
tition, and  our  blankets  on  tlie  t>atne  Hoor 
upon  wliicli  those  Indians  sprinted  and 
jumped  and  shufTled  ! 

New-Year's  past  and  the  liddle  hung 
up,  1  entered  upon  the  business  of  our 
getting  under  way  for  Fort  McMurray, 


NATIVE  "SNOW-G.LASSES." 

the  next  Hudson  Bay  post  to  the  north, and 
then  indeed  did  the  trouble  begin.  First 
of  all,  Gairdner  earnestly  a.ssured  me  that 
I  could  not  make  the  trip  I  contempla- 
ted, that  I  could  not  get  into  the  Barren 
Grounds,  and  would  risk  my  life  if  I  did, 
and  could  not  get  Indians  to  accompany 
me  if  I  would.  Then,  after  finding  me 
undismayed  by  the  lugubrious  prospect, 
he  informed  me  that  he  had  not  been 
able  to  get  matters  ready,  nor  could  lie 
say  how  soon  we  could  start.  He  had 
first  engaged  two  men,  but  both  backed 
out,  one  because  he  could  not  get  four 
dogs  together,  and  the  other  because  he 
liad  no  house  to  put  his  wife  in  during 
his  absence.  Finally  he  had  .secured  the 
services  of  a  half-breed  called  "Shot." 
who,  he  said,  was  the  best  man  in  the 
country,  trustworthy  and  a  good  travel- 
ler, and  liad  spoken  to  another  half-breed, 
who  was  just  then  struggling  to  make  up 
his  mind.  Added  to  tlrs  pleasing  intelli- 
gence, the  snow-shoes  were  being  made 
by  an  Indian   who    lived    fifteen    miles 


away,  and  from  whom  nothing  Imd  been 
heard.  I  thought  we  were  at  least  sure 
of  "Shot";  l)ut  the  ne,\t  day  lie  came  to 
us  with  a  large  story  of  his  worth,  the  sac- 
rifices he  would  make  by  going  with  us, 
and  wound  up  by  refusing  to  budge  un- 
less we  doubled  the  wages  which  lie  and 
Gairdnt."  had  agreed  upon. 

For  the  remainder  of  this  and  the  next 
day  life  was  a  burden  to  me.  Gairdner 
was  absolutely  of  no  use,  as  lie  could 
liave  been  by  standing  '-etween  us  and 
the  Indians  ',n  our  business.  I  was 
obliged  to  fake  matters  into  my  own 
hands,  and  deal  with  '-'"'e  wrangling  Ind- 
ians through  an  i;:torpreter.  I  finally 
secured  "Shot"  on  a  compromise,  in- 
tending to  take  no  other  man,  but  drive 
t<)e  secon  1  train  of  dogs  ourselves.  Then 
I  had  a  time  getting  another  four  dogs 
and  sledge.  First  the  owners  would  iiot 
hire  a  train  without  their  own  engage- 
ment (this  after  I  had  spent  two  days  try- 
ing to  induce  them  to  go  with  me!),  then 
no  one  man  who  had  a  complete  train 
could  be  found.  At  last  I  got  two  dogs 
from  one  Indian  and  one  dog  each  from 
two  dift'erent  Indians.  Meanwhile  I  was 
waiting  for  "Shot,"  who  was  to  come 
prepared  for  the  start  as  soon  as  the  snow- 
shoes  were  finished,  and  being  worried 
thin  by  the  dog -owners'  repeated  visits 
and  their  clamors  for  a  new  deal ;  having 
hired  the  dogs  and  sledge,  they  wanted  me 
to  ]>a,j  an  additional  fee  for  harness  and 
wrapper,  or,  if  not,  to  give  them  a  little 
tea  or  tobacco  or  moccasins.  I  was  in 
constant  dread  lest  their  fickleness  would 
'  ventually  deprive  me  of  a  train,  and  I 
cirsed  "Shot"  roundly  for  his  delay. 
Meanwhile,  too,  Heming  and  I  were  con- 
ditioning ourselves  by  some  running  ev- 
ery afternoon,  and  had  settled  to  the  con- 
viction that  the  hardest  part  of  our  trip 
appeared  to  be  the  getting  started. 

At  last  on  Friday,  January  4tli,  the  im- 
patiently awaited  "Shot"  arrived,  with 
his  dogs  and  sledge  in  good  condition, but 
the  sledge  of  the  second  train  broken  so 
badly  as  to  necessitate  its  repair  before 
starting.  "  Shot "  had  also  brought  with 
him  a  young  Cree  Indian  called  John, 
Avhom  he  recommended  as  a  good  runner, 
and  advised  me  to  engage ;  and  afterwards, 
when  Heming  fell  ill,  and  John  and  I 
pushed  on  into  the  country  alone,  I  for- 
gave "Shot "  much  of  what  I  had  harbor- 
ed against  him  because  of  his  bringing  me 
that  Cree.     It  was  noon  before  the  sledge 


I 


>  / 


nothing  had  been 
were  at  least  sure 
xt  day  lie  came  to 
his  worth,  the  sac- 
V  eoiiiff  with  us, 
sing-  to  budge  ull- 
ages which  he  and 
>on. 

this  and  the  next 
to  nie.  Gairdner 
use,  as  he  could 
•  '  »^tween  us  and 
business.  I  was 
rs  into  my  own 
e  wrangling  Ind- 
preter.     I   finally 

compromise,  in- 
3r  man,  but  drive 
ourselves.     Then 
notliei'  four  dogs 
wners  would  liot 
eir  own  engage- 
en  t  two  days  try- 
3  with  me !),  then 
a  complete  train 
it  I  got  two  dogs 
le  dog  each  from 
Meanwhile  I  was 
ho  was  to  come 
soon  as  the  snow- 
l  being  worried 
;'  repeated  visits 
ewdeal;  having 

they  wan  ted  me 
for  hai-ness  and 
them  a  little 
sins.     I  was  in 

ckleness  Avould 
a  train,  and  I 

for  his    delay. 

ind  I  were  con- 

ne  running  ev- 

tled  to  the  con- 

»art  of  our  trip 

started. 

ry  4th,  the  im- 
ai-rived,  with 
condition,  but 

ain  broken  so 
repair  before 

>  brought  with 
called  John, 

-  good  runner, 

id  afterwards, 
John  and  I 
alone,  I  for- 

|l  had  harbor- 
bringing  me 
re  the  sledge 


'in  A  24°  BELOW  ZERO  ATMOSPHERE  THEY  WAITED." 


had  been  mended  and  we  were  ready  to 
begin  packing  up  for  the  start.  Our  per- 
sonal luggage  consisted  of  a  change  of 
shirts  and  heavy  underwear,  three  silk 
pocket-handkerchiefs,  an  extra  pair  of 
Irish  frieze  trousers,  a  heavy  woollen 
sweater,  stf-ut  gloves  to  wear  inside  the 
native-made  mittens,  two  pairs  of  Hudson 
Bay  Company  four-point  blankets,  a  rab- 
bit-skin robe  (of  native  manufacture,  and 
very  warm),  blanket  leggings,  a  caribou- 
skin  capote  lined  with  blanket,  a  knitted 
hood,  a  wor-sted  tuque,  "dutfel"  socks 
(native-made  of  a  sort  of  blanket  stuff, 
two  to  three  pairs  being  worn  at  a  time 
inside  the  moccasins),  snow  glasses,  sev- 
eral pairs  of  moccasins,  hunting- knife, 
strong  clasp-knife,  a  45.90  Winchester, 
half-magazine,  and  150  cartridges,  pills, 
and  mustang  liniment, •  I  had,  besides, 
a  compass,  my  camera  (in  a  strong  zinc 
box),  note -books,  and  some  iodoform, 
antiseptic  lorenges,  and  sterilized  gauze 
bandages,   ^u    case    amputation    because 


of  freezing  became  necessary.  Our  pro- 
visions included  bacon,  tea,  flour,  and 
a  few  pounds  of  potatoes  Mrs.  Gairdner 
was  kind  enough  to  boil  and  mash  and 
freeze  into  a  pan  for  us;  our  one  luxury — 
or  rather  mine,  for  Heniiiig  does  not  smoke 
— was  tobacco.  In  all  we  had  just  357 
pounds,  which  I  was  careful  to  determine, 
for  I  was  sure  "Shot"  would  be  grum- 
bling about  the  load,  and  swear  we  had 
600  pounds  on  each  sledge,  and  I  wanted 
to  be  prepared  to  meet  him,  as  I  had  said 
we  .should  go  light  purposely  to  make 
good  time.  We  took  only  one  night's 
fish  for  the  dogs  (dogs  being  fed  fish  in 
this  country  in  place  of  meat),  because 
Gairdner  told  us  we  should  find  plenty  at 
Hart  Lake,  which  we  would  reach  the 
next  night.  Finally  by  tliree  o'clock  the 
sledges  were  packed,  "Shot"  and  John 
had  bade  tender  farewells  to  every  man. 
woman,  and  child  about  the  post,  Gaird- 
ner and  Grierson  had  wished  us  the  best 
of  luck,  and  we  began  our  journey. 


LMMXi(%a->*^  4' 


A    WOMAN  S    PORCUPINK-QUII.L    BELT. 


i"..T 


oil 
sll 


ClI 


ai| 


OH 

lull 


111 
th 


'  WELL,    PHILIPPA  ?" 


See  **  A  Previous  Engagenieuu*' 


I 


TIIK    rXITKI)    STATUS    NAVAL    ACADhMV, 


au7 


Ivious  Engagemeuu" 


Um^  wiiy  ill  wliicli  In'  finplnys  liis  lime, 
;iiul  ill'*'  ill  coiiM'iiiit'iKM!  (•iijii)lt'(l  frc([Ut'iit- 
Iv  to  siivt!  liiiM  from  iiimsclf.  They, 
nini'fovt'i',  po.ssoss  pt'culiai'  ("iicilitios  tor 
lUiilviii^''  tli(!  most  of  the  iiii'ii  intrusted  to 
llit'ir  ciuirge.  Witliout  iulditioiial  ex- 
pciiso  to  till!  ^^overiiiiKMit,  tiiey  can  draw 
on  a  practically  unlimited  force  of  in- 
structors. Tlirou^fh  this  aj,'eiicy  they  can 
re  enforco  the  steady  pressure  of  that  t,'en- 
eral  cdiu'atioiial  drill  ^fiven  to  tlu;  wliolo 
class  with  an  attention  to  the  <,''uidanco 
and  devtdopment  of  the  individual  mem- 
hers  helonj^iny  to  it  whicii  it  is  utterly 
out  of  tli(^  power  of  any  ordinary  institu- 
tion of  learuinj;:  to  rival  even  remotely. 
But  while  they  have  accomplished  much 
in  the  i)ast,  they  have  accomplished  it  in 
the  face  of  great  and  unnecessary  difli- 
culties.  These  dilliculties,  furthermore, 
are  constantly  increasing,  with  the  in- 
creasiufifly  complex  nature  of  tlie  prob- 
lems which  warfare  under  th(>  develop- 
ment of  modern  science  is  called  upon  to 
meet.  They  demand  for  their  solutiou 
as  never  before  tlie  services  of  tlie  hifjh- 
est  order  of  trained  intellect,  and  of  in- 
tellect  trained  iu  a  wide  variety  of  w'ays. 
The  very  fact  that  the  teaching'  foi'ce  of 
the  two  national  Academies  ha6  been 
enabled  to  do  so  much  under  tliB  present 
wretclied  s^-stem  is  an  additioinil  reason 
for  giving  them  the  opportuni,ty  to  do  far 
more  under  a  better  system/  We  insist 
upon  the  best  physically;  \/ith  equal  rea- 
son we  ought  to  insist  upo/1  the  best  men- 
tally. / 

Against  any  reform  of  the  present  sys- 
tem we  must  expect  /the  inevitable  de- 
clarations of  what  iiiight,  could,  would, 
or  should  have  hap))ened  if  a  liiglier 
standard  had  prevsiiled  in  the  past.  As 
this  is  a  point  s<Ibout  which  one  man 
knows  just  as  n/icli  as  another,  and  no- 
body knows  a)n  thing  at  all,  its  consider- 
ation may  be  s^'.fely  left  to  those  who  de- 
light in  the  discussion  of  questions  that 
can  never  be/ answered  and  of  problems 
that  can  ne^^er  be  solved.  There  is,  how- 
ever, an  obstacle  in  the  way  that  is  really 
forinidabVe.  Against  any  improvement 
in  the  einsting  state  of  things  we  are  told 
that  C(/ngress  stands  as  an  insurmount- 
able barrier.  That  it  has  so  stood  in  the 
past  is  undeniable.  The  entrance  to  the 
Military  Academy  is  prescribed  by  law; 
and  though  that  to  the  Naval  Academy 
is  under  the  control  of  the  Navy  Depart- 
ment, it    is    impracticable   to   have   any 


marked  distiiuMion  in  the  requirements 
for  admission  to  the  two  arms  of  tlu-  ser- 
vice, lint  that  thi.s  condition  of  ai.^.irs 
should  continue  to  exist  afirr  the  matter 
has  once  been  brought  fully  to  the  atten- 
tion of  the  country,  and  dispassionately 
considered  by  its  representaliv<'s,  I,  for 
one,  should  hesitate  and  certainly  hale  to 
believe.  There  is  ijot  an  educated  Con- 
gressman who  would  not  hv  found  will- 
ing to  concede  that  the  national  legisla- 
tur(!  is  as  utlwrly  incompetent  to  jiass 
upon  the  studies  which  should  lie  pursued 
before  entrance  as  it  would  he  upon  those 
that  are  pursued  after  entrance,  'i'heie 
is  but  one  body  properly  (|ualilied  to  de- 
cide upon  a  question  of  this  character. 
That  body  is  made  up  of  those  in  the  two 
Academies  who  have  had  experience  in 
the  work  of  actual  instruction  in  the 
theory  of  the  profession,  and  of  a  chosen 
ijumbei'  of  the  graduates  of  highest  abil- 
ity who  hiive  had  experience  in  its  jirac- 
tice.  To  their  hands,  subject  to  the  ap- 
proval of  the  Navy  Department,  can  the 
reiiuirements  for  admission  he  safely  in- 
trusted, and  to  their  hands  alone.  All 
the  dangers  feared  from  committing  this 
power  to  such  a  body  are  utterly  illusory. 
No  persons  like  the  members  constituting 
it  would  have  the  interests  of  the  Acule- 
mies  so  completely  at  lieavt.  They  could 
be  trusted  to  act  neither  unadvisedly  nor 
hastily.  The  standard  of  admission  would 
be  raised,  but  it  would  be  raised  gradual- 
ly. Notice  of  all  changes  would  be  given 
suflicientlj'  long  in  advance  to  ail'ord 
ample  time  for  pr(^i)aratioii  for  intending 
candidates.  Instead  of  a  cast-iron  sys- 
tem, as  now,  we  should  have  then  an  elas- 
tic one,  accommodating  itself  to  the  needs 
of  the  service  and  to  the  advance  of  naval 
and  military  science.  For  at  the  present 
time  as  never  before  in  our  history  does 
the  country  require  that  its  naval  oflicers 
should  be  of  the  highest  type  of  able  and 
educated  men.  They  will  be  as  never 
before  its  representatives  to  the  outside 
world.  Upon  their  tact,  their  bearing, 
their  knowledge,  and  their  cultivation 
will  depend  at  times  the  favorable  re- 
sult of  disputes  on  delicate  and  diffi- 
cult questions  of  policy  that  has  to  be 
adopted  in  unexpected  emergencies.  It 
ought  to  be  the  aim  of  the  nation  to  at- 
tract to  the  Naval  Academy  the  very 
flower  of  its  youth  who  are  fitted  by 
nature  and  inclination  to  enter  the  naval 
service. 


..^ 


n._FROM   LA   HirilK  TO   FOlfT   ("IlirEWVAN. 


TTI/'ITH  several  Indians  niiining:  l)efore 
IT  to  «'scoi't  us  l)ov<)n(l  llio  i)()st  in  aj)- 
in'ovcd  style,  \v<i  left  La  Biclic  at  a  pretty 
i)risic  "fait,  and  niainlaiiicd  for  a  pfood  hour 
a  pace  wliieli  must  have  carried  us  six 
miles.  liut  Ilemiufj  and  I  were  so  de- 
lit'lited  at  beiufj'  liually  and  really  under 
way  that  no  s))eed  those  Indians  could 
have  set  would  have  been  too  still'  for  us. 
As  we  ran  we  now  and  afcain  delivered 
ourselves  of  congratulations  that  were  ex- 
))ressive  if  brief,  and  somewhat  disconnect- 
ed in  deliver}'.  We  had  been  delayed 
three  days  and  a  half  at  La  Biche,  fussing 
wii  Indians  that  had  more  time  than 
energy,  more  promise  than  execution,  and 
who  broke  contracts  as  rapid Ij'  as  thej' 
made  them.  Gairdnev  liad  annoyed  me  a 
great  deal,  and  no  doubt  we  had  worried 
liim  not  a  little,  breaking  in  upon  the  even 
and  lethargic  tenor  of  his  monotonous  life 
with  our  "outside"  (as  the  great  world 
is  called  by  the  denizens  of  this  lone 
land)  hustling  ways.  But  now  that  it  is 
all  past,  and  the  trip  successfully  made, 
we  are  willing  to  forgive  and  be  forgiven. 
We  did  not  expect  to  go  far  that  night; 
our  chief  desire  was  to  get  started;  and 
besides,  we  knew  we  should  pass  several 
Indian  houses,  where  we  must  stop,  that 
"Shot"  and  John  might  live  up  to  the 
usual  demands  of  the  country  courtesy, 
and  shake  hands  Avith  the  occupants,  and 
gossip  about  the  white  men  they  were 
guiding  over  the  first  stage  of  their  long 
journey.  Shaking  hands  always  includes 
the  further  ceremony  of  filling  up  tlie 
pipes  aiul  a  drink  of  tea,  should  the  host 
happen  to  have  any  of  that  luxury,  and 
so  when  we  had  left  the  last  Indian  lodge, 
and  cro.ssed  the  northeast  end  of  the  lake 
and  got  well  into  the  woods,  it  was  sunset, 


and  time  to  camj).  The  going  down  of 
the  sun  is  the  invariable  signal  for  camp- 
ing, for  the  twilight  is  of  short  duration, 
and  the  Indians  will  not  run  the  risk  of 
accident  l)y  ('liopi)ing  wood  after  dark. 
And  they  are  (jnite  right.  A  cut  foot  or 
leg  in  civilization  is  ordinarily  little  more 
than  inconvejiient.  but  in  this  trackless 
wilderness  any  wound  that  interrupts  a 
man's  travelling  may  lead  to  his  death. 
And  so  as  the  sun  begins  to  disai)))ear 
below  the  horizon  you  grow  watchful  for 
a  place  that  is  most  .sheltered  and  best 
wooded  and  nearest  the  road  you  are 
following. 

By  the  time  we  had  gathered  firewood 
it  began  to  snow,  and  we  ate  our  first 
meal  in  the  open,  with  backs  arched  to 
Avindward,  and  capote  hoods  pulled  up 
over  our  heads  to  keep  "the  beautiful" 
from  going  down  our  necks.  That  first 
night  out  was  an  interesting  one  to  nie; 
with  recollections  of  bivouacs  in  the 
Rockies,  I  thought  the  fire  insignificant 
and  the  timber  small,  but  the  dogs  sitting 
on  their  haunches  watching  the  thaw- 
ing of  the  frozen  fish  that  were  to  furnish 
them  with  supper,  and  the  sledges  drawn 
on  the  banked-up  snow  at  the  head  of  our 
blankets,  made  a  novel  and  picturesque 
scene. 

Every  one  was  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the 
weary,  if  not  of  the  just,  and  the  dogs  had 
eaten  and  curled  themselves  up  in  the 
snow  for  the  night,  when  I  finally  threw 
off  mj'  meditative  mood  and  rolled  up  in 
my  blankets. 

It  snowed  all  night,  and  when  we  broke 
camp  the  next  morning  at  six  it  was  still 
snowing,  and  there  Avas  a  cold  head-wind 
that  made  us  move  lively  to  keep  com- 
fortable.   The  trail  wound  through  brush 


a  I 
a(i 
h\ 
isl 

tc 

ful 

i' 

sill 

mil 

mij 

mij 


I 


ON    SNOW  SHOKS   TO    TIIK    I5ARUKN    (JKOUNDS. 


209 


riie  goinj,''  down  of 
bio  sijrnal  for  camp- 
s  of  sliorl  duration, 
not  I'un  the  risk  of 
:  wood  after  dari<. 
K-lit.  A  cnt  foot  or 
•dinarily  little  more 
It  in  this  trackless 
[1  that  interrupts  a 

load  to  his  death, 
ii'fj-iiis  to  disapi)ear 

};ro\v  watchful  for 
sheltered  and  hest 
the    road   you    are 

g-athered  firewood 

i  we  ate  our   first 

1  backs  arched   to 

hoods   pulled    up 

[)  "the  beautiful  " 

|nocks.     That  first 

(Sting  one  to  nie; 

bivouacs    in    the 

fire  insig-)iificant 

t  the  dogs  sitting 

[.ching  the   tlmw- 

t  were  to  furnish 

lie  sledges  drawn 

,t  the  liead  of  our 

and  picturesque 

the  sleep  of  tlie 
»nd  the  dogs  liad 
ilves  up  in  the 

I  finally  threw 
md  rolled  up  in 

when  we  broke 

six  it  was  still 

|cold  liead-wind 

1^'  to  keej)  com- 

through  brush 


nnd  small  tiinbi-r,  and  now  and  a<{-aiM 
across  a  small  lal<i>,  but  its  ;;'ri-atftt  lenulli 
lay  over  what  is  called  '•  muskejf,"  which 
ii*('i'eo  for  Hwan\p.  and  llw  most  liriny, 
patience  testing  travelling  I  ever  encoun- 
tered. 

Imagine  a  landlocked  lake  swept  liy 
furious  cross-winds,  and  its  entire  surface 
<'hurned  into  choppy  waves  ;  suppose  it 
suddenly  coniff-aled  at  its  antrrifsl  mo- 
ment ;  further,  suppose  a  deep  layer  of 
miry  earth  covered  liy  thick  heavy  moss 
moulded  upon  it,  ami  stuck  full  of  cl«>se- 
growing  stout  hi'ush.  That  is  the  muskeg. 
Now  fancy  walking  over  a  succession  of 
uneven  hummocks  with  brush  constantly 
cat<'liing  your  snow-shoe  and  slapping 
your  face,  and  you  will  have  a  vagii;' 
ide.i  of  the  difficulties  of  muskeg  travel. 
Jit'vel  footii!g  is  exceedingly  scarce,  the 
wind  blows  the  snow  "  whither  it  listelli." 
and  you  cannot  know  win  Jier  yctu  are 
al)out  to  step  on  top  of  one  of  those  innu- 
merable mounds  or  into  oiu>  of  the  many 
gutters  that  cro.ss -section  the  swamp. 
You  know  after  you  have  taken  the  step. 
Nine  tinu's  out  of  ten  you  land  on  the 
slanting  si(l((  of  the  mound,  and  slip  and 
trip  and  turn  your  ankle  and  ust;  yoiuself 
up  generally.  It  is  exceedingly  tlilllcult 
going,  and  lleming  iind  I,  who  relieved 


one  another  breaking  trail  for  the  dogs, 
foumi  it  very  fatiguing. 

It  was  storming  hard  i\\u\  getting  cold- 
er, and  I  wasaliead  seliini,''  the  pace,  when, 
about  three  o'cjiicl,  that  alleruonM.  I  came 
upon  a  log  hut,  and  two  trails  that  boro 
away  in  dill'er»'n!  tlireetions.  i  \vi>|i  I 
could  h;ive  |)liii|ographed  the  scene  which 
slowly  maleriali/ed  from  out  of  the  dark- 
ness as  I  stood  on  theeartluui  lloor  within 
the  cabin  while  my  eyes  grew  accustom 
ed  to  the  changed  conditions.  ( )n  enter 
iiig  I  couhl  dislingiiish  only  the  lire  in  one 
end,  before  which  sqiiatti'd  a  couple  of 
Indians  and  a  sipiaw,  but  gradually  the 
shadows  lifted,  and  I  found  myself  I'or 
a  few  moments  bii>ily  en^aj.''ed  shaking 
hands  with  Indians  as  fast  as  tlie  new 
light  revealed  them.  It  was  a  very  stnall 
cabin,  barely  ten  feel  s(|uaie,  I  should 
say,  with  a  parchment  covered  hole  ii, 
the  wall  for  window,  and  a  door  which 
deniaiided  a  bowed  head  of  every  visitor. 
1  do  not  kn()w  how  many  Indians  were 
in  that  hut,  but  I  rc<'all  wondering  how 
they  aiiaiiged  for  sleeping,  as  there  seem- 
ed hardly  space  for  them  to  sit,  much 
less  lie  down.  They  were  about  to  e.it, 
aiul  several  ral)bits,  suspended  full  length 
froMi  •'  deer  thong,  ami  minus  only  their 
skins,  were  twirling  and  roasting  before 


THE   INDIAN  S  STOREHOUSK    AND   LARDEH. 


210 


HARPER'S   NEW    MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


the  fire,  while  others  were  being  prepared 
for  the  coolviiisj;-.  I  was  not  ])!irtiiil  to 
rabbit,  nor  especially  happy  in  the  cabin's 
atmosphere,  so  when  1  had  wanned  a  bit 
I  went  ouLside  to  wait  for  the  dog  brigade 
to  come  np. 

Ileming  and  Joiin  hove  in  siglit  short- 
ly', but  (luite  half  an  hour  had  i)assed 
when  "Shot"  and  his  dogs  loomed  up 
in  the  stonn,  that  seemed  increasing  every 
minute.  Then  "Sliot"  and  I  had  our 
first  battle  royal.  He  fancied  the  smell  of 
the  roasting  rabbit  and  the  warm  cabin; 
he  did  not  like  the  sleet  drivi)ig  in  our 
faces,  and  he  wanted  to  camp.  I  was 
annoyed  at  the  interrup- 
tions to  our  j)rogress,  dis- 
gusted with  "Shot"  for 
Ins  vainglorious  moutli- 
ing  at  La  Biche  and  his 
halting  gait  since  leav- 
ing tliere,  and  determin- 
ed that  night  to  reach 
Hart  Lake,  which  was 
only  seven  or  eight  miles 
farther  on,  and  where  we 
expected  to  get  fish  (of 
which  we  then  had  none) 
for  our  dogs.  In  lan- 
guage both  ])ointed  and 
picturesque  I  reminded 
"Shot''  of  my  being  the 
commander-in-chief  of 
our  little  expedition,  and 
made  him  understand  we 
were  out  neithei-  for  plea- 
sui-e  nor  for  oui-  health, 
that  we  had  an  ol)jective 
point, and  intended  to  get 
there  wi  ill  out  loss  of  time, 
and  without  camping  in 
every  cabin  we  discover- 
ed or  being  headed  ott'  by 
every  severe  storm  we 
encountered,  "Shot" 
spluttered  a  great  deal 
at  first,  and  then  looked 
as  if  it  would  give  him 
pleasure  to  bury  his 
hunting-knife  in  my  Mesh;  but  he  sulked 
instead,  and  we  moved  away  from  the 
crowded  little  house  and  the  roasting  rab- 
bits. 

There  had  been  a  broken  trail  from  this 
point  to  Hart  Lake,  but  the  same  sloi-m 
that  was  making  our  walking  so  ardu- 
ous had  almost  obliterated  it.  and  it  was 
long  after  dark,  and  the  thermometer  .30° 
below  zero,  when  we  reached   the  cal)in 


I 


4i.  iil 


NATIVK-MADK    OAKTKIl. 

Frotit  an  old  uud  lost  ilt'^i^ii. 


of    the   Indian    who    Gairdner   had   said 
would  sell   us  fish  enough  to  last  to  the 
]\[cMurray  fishery.    But.  like  all  the  things 
Gairdner    told    us,  we   found    realization 
quite  different  from  ju-omist;.    The  Indian 
was  willing  enough  to  sell,  but  his  cache 
was  fifteen  miles  away;   he  had  just  heard 
it  had  been   broken  into  and  all  his  lish 
stolen,  so  that  he  could   not  say  whether 
or    no   he    really    had    any;    and,  at   all 
events,  he  could  not  make  the  journey  in 
one   day,  and   would    not  start  the  next 
(Sunday),  because  it  was  the  occasion  of 
the  priest's  yearly  visit  to  this  district. 
I  was  sorry  to  jeopard   liis   soul  by  de- 
priving   it   of  the   annual    shi-iving,  but 
I  believed  my  dogs  in  more  urgent  need 
of  fisli   than   he  of  salvation,  and  I  was 
sure    three    days'    delay    at   Hart    Lake 
would   blight  definitely  whatever  hopes, 
of  a  future   reward  1  might   previously 
have    enjoyed.       Thei'efore    I    set    about 
to  wreck   that  Intlian's  peace   of   mind. 
Four  skins  —  i.e.,  two  dollars  —  quieted 
spiritual   alarms,  a  silk  Ijandkerchief  to 
the  wife  secured  a  promise  to  make  the 
trip  to  the  cache  and  back  in  one  day, 
and  the  coup  d'etat  was  executed  by  en- 
listing "  Shot's'' sympathies  through  my 
assuring  him  that,  fish  or  no  iish,  I  should 
start  Monday  morning,  and,  if  necessary, 
feed  our  bacon  to  the  dogs,  and  complete 
the  journey  on  tea  and  i)otatoes,  of  which 
latter,  I  believe,  we  liad  a  few  meals  left. 
Thus  it  was  that  I  got  the  Indian  started 
ott"  early  Sunday  morning  for  his  cache, 
and  .saved  two  souls  and  eight  dogs. 

The  beneficence  of  the  La  Biche  ])riest 
extended  fai-ther  that  Sunday  than  he 
knew.  Ileming  and  I  blessed  his  coming 
without  stint,  for  it  emjjtied  of  its  usual 
occupants  the  filthy  cabin  in  which  we 
were  oblifjed  to  spend  the  day  and  anothei- 
night,  aiul  gave  us  an  opportunity  to  sweep 
the  iloor  and  renew  intimate  relations  with 
water. 

When  we  took  up  our  journey  again 
^londay  morning,  with  the  insuUicient 
supply  of  fish  got  from  the  Indian's  de- 
spoiled cache,  the  mercury  had  dropped 
to  5-4 "^  below  zero,  and  there  was  lu)  longer 
a  broken  trail.  Our  first  ten  miles  lay 
across  a  lake,  and  both  Heming  and  I, 
who  were  bi'caking  road,  and  sinking  up 
to  our  knees  in  the  snow,  were  frequently 
startled  by  a  rundjling  as  of  distant  thun- 
der as  the  ice  cracked  under  us.  It  was 
a  curious  sensation  too,  to  have  these  ex- 
l)losions  occurring  at  our  feet,  and  vibra- 


ON   SNOW-SHOES   TO    THE    BARREN   GROUNDS. 


211 


said 
the 
iiigs 
tion 
lian 
clie 
ard 
lish 
llier 
all 
in 
lext 
1  of 
ict. 
de- 
but 
eed 
was. 
ike 
ojjes 
usiy 

l)OUt 

iiul. 

elL'd 

f  to 

the 

eii- 
my 
ould 
Sary, 
plete 
liich 
left, 
irted 
iche. 


ting  towards  tlie  shores  in  successive  and 
receding  detonations,  like  the  rings  which 
widen  and  follow  upon  one  another  when 
you  have  thrown  a  stone  into  a  i)ond. 
On  one  occasion  watei-  followed  tlKM'rack- 
ing,  and  we  were  obliged  to  run  hard, 
until  we  stopped  for  dinner,  to  keep  our 
feet  from  freezing. 

Th»^  going  was  ex'ceedingl y  diflicult  ail 
day  long,  in  deep  snow,  across  lakes, 
through  l)unchcs  of  stunted  s[)ruce.  and 
over  tlie  redoubtable  muskeg,  where  the 
sledges  required  constant  handling,  and 
never  by  any  chance  remained  right  side 
np  for  more  than  a  few  moments  at  a  time. 
Still,  the  weather  remained  clear.and  when 
we  camped,  at  six  o'clock,  the  stars  were 
shining  brightly,  and  we  had  left  Hart 
Lake  thirty-eight  miles  behind  us.  Hem- 
ing  and  I  running  the  last  nine  miles  in 
one  hour  and  forty  minutes. 

I  had  been  very  much  worried  over 
Heming's  condition  the  last  two  days;  on 
the  night  we  arrived  at  Hart  T/ake  he 
seemed  considerably  worn,  and  the  only 
consolation  I  had  in  the  day's  delay  there 
was  the  hoi)e  it  furnished  that  the  rest 
would  brace  him  up.  But  on  this  night 
he  was  com])letely  used  up,  and  I  was  very 
seriously  alarmed  by  discovering  symp- 
toms of  deranged  kidneys.  I  did  not  then 
know  the  cause,  and  attributed  it  to  strain 
brought  on  by  hard  running.  In  fact, 
Heming  did  not  tell  nie.  nntil  I  stopped 
otf  at  Hamilton  to  see  him  on  my  way 
back  to  New  York,  that  on  the  day's  run  to 
Hart  Lake  he  had  fallen  over  a  log  and 
struck  on  the  small  of  his  back.  I  only 
knew  at  that  time  that  any  weakness  of 
the  kidneys  Avas  not  to  be  trilled  with, 
and  I  felt  it  would  be  extremely  hazai'd- 
ous  to  take  him  on;  so  I  lay  down  that 
night  to  think  rather  than  to  sleep. 

It  was  fearfully  cold  the  following 
morning,  with  the  going  growing  harder 
every  hour,  and  I  fell  behind  Heming  to 
watch  how  he  stood  up  under  the  effort. 
I  could  ])lainly  see  he  was  laboring  with 
great  dilliculty,  and  concluded  it  would 
be  suicidal  for  him  to  continue,  getting 
farther  from  civilization  and  })hysi(;ians 
every  mile,  so  at  ten  o'clock  I  called  a 
halt,  and  expressed  my  determination  fo 
send  him  home.  Heming  was  loath  to 
turn  l)ack.  but  appreciated  his  unfitness 
for  the  onward  journey,  and  acquiesced 
in  a  decision  which  must  have  brought 
him  keenest  disappointment. 

We  had  stepped  aside  for  our  confer- 


"  JOUN.' 


ence,  and  I  have  little  doubt  •'Shot"  fan- 
cied us  planning. something  for  his  discom- 
fort, and  was  much  i-elieved  on  learning 
he  was  to  return.  I  decided  on  "Shot"  in- 
stead of  .John,  because 
he  understood  Eng- 
lish enough  to  ad- 
minister to  Heming's 
wants  in  case  of 
his  collapse.  Then, 
through  "Shot's"  in- 
terjjretation,  I  had  to 
win  Jiihn's  consent  to 
go  on  with  nie,  and  I 
experienced  a  very 
disquieting  half-hour 
indeed  whileJohn  un- 
derwent the  elaborate 
process  of  jnaking  up 
his  mind.  First  he  re- 
fused ;  then  he  demur- 
red becau.se  he  had 
never been  in  that  part 

of  the  country  before,  and  was  as  dejjend- 
ent  on  "Shot"  for  guidance  as  we  were 
ourselves;  and  again  he  objected  because 
he  could  not  speak  nor  understand  a  word 
of  English,  and  I  was  as  deficient  in  Cree. 
However,  finally  he  consented  if  I  would 
give  him  a  few  i)resents,  the  nature  of 
which  I  have  now  forgotten;  and  after  we 
had  eaten,  the  two  Indians  set  to  work 
dividing  the  supplies  and  repacking  the 
sledges.  It  was  iu)t  a  very  elal)orate  task, 
and  (lid  not  take  long.  We  had  eaten  the 
last  f)f  the  imtatoes,  and  so  when  the  bacon 
and  the  tea  and  the  flour  had  been  divi- 
ded, the  blankets  .sei)arated,  and  Heming 
and  I  had  indicated  which  was  which  of 
the  two  .seamless  sacks  that  contained  our 
l)ersonal  luggage,  the  sledges  were  packed 
and  the  dogs  headed  in  opposite  direc- 
tions. 

Then  we  went  oui-  separate  ways,  and 
I  took  up  my  journey  to  tlu*  great  lone 
land,  over  a  sti'ang(>  country,  and  without 
even  the  poor  .satisfaction  of  talking  my 
mother-tongue. 

My  regret  over  Heming's  falling  ill 
may  be  better  imagined  than  described. 
Foremost,  of  course.  I  dei)U)re(l  the  loss 
of  ;i  companion  on  a  tri|)  which  was  to 
extend  over  2()0()  miles;  and  of  less  but 
still  considerable  concern  was  the  sud- 
den deprivation  of  a  i.lpniate,  upon 
whose  hardihood  and  ex|)ei'ience  I  had 
confidently  counted.  Heming  had  had 
abundant  snow -shoeing  anil  .some  dog- 
sledging,  and  I  set  much  value  on  a  know- 


213 


HARPERS    NEW    MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


ledfje  llial  would,  to  some  extent  at  least, 
facilitate  our  venturesome  undertalviii';'. 
And  now  liei-e  1  was,  just  I'oui-  days 
out  from  La  Biclie,  iievei-  haviiiy  liad  a 
web  suow-slioe  on  my  fool,  nor  even  seen 
a  doy-sledge,  with  six  days  of  travel  over 
an  uidiiiown  country  between  me  and 
Fort  McMurray,  the  next  nearest  tradin.<(- 
post.  However,  unpleasant  as  the  pros- 
pect was,  I  had  thought  it  ail  over  the 
niglit  before  as  I  lay  in  my  blankets  after 
our  hard  day's  run,  and  realized  the  sit- 
uation as  completely  as  1  had  settled  upon 
my  course.  But  it  was  not  a  liappy  af- 
ternoon, that  Slh  of  January.  18!)."),  which 
saw  me,  after  the  separation,  triulying-  on- 
ward in  cold  and  in  silence. 

If  I  lamented  Hem ing,  most  assuredly 
I  did  not  mourn  "Shot,"'  notwithstand- 
ing his  being  the  only  man  in  the  outfit 
who  knew  the  country  across  which  we 
were  to  journey.  He  luul  been  a  sore 
trial  to  me  from  the  day  of  our  de])art- 
ure  —  nay,  even  from  the  very  hour  of 
our  introduction  at  La  Biche — and  I  con- 
fess to  honest  i-elief  in  ridding  my.self  of 
him,  though  I  was  at  the  lime  like  a  ship 
cast  adrift  without  rudder.  Before  starl- 
ing he  had  delii)ei'ately  broken  liis  con- 
tract, and  followed  it  U|)  by  repealed  at- 
t(nni)ts  to  squeeze  more  money  out  of  me 
when  he  recognized  my  helplessness  and 
saw  my  anxiety  to  get  under  way.  He 
exasperated  me  to  such  a  degree  that, 
knowing  an  indulgence  to  my  feelings 
would  result  in  his  refusing  to  go  at  all, 
I  remember  confiding  to  Heming  the  great 
lioi)e  that  my  legs  would  i)i'ove  as  stout  as 
they  had  at  other  times,  and  enable  me  to 
set  such  a  i)ace  as  should  make  "Shot's" 
tongue  hang  out  before  we  reached  McMur- 
ray. 

Whether  the  pace  was  t(^o  hot  or  he  too 
lazy  I  cannot  say,  but  certainly  when  we 
were  once  started  he  kept  me  busy  ui'giiig 
him  to  faster  gait;  his  train  was  invaria- 
bly so  far  behind  as  to  delay  us  ten  to 
lifleen  minutes  at  i-very  "  sp(dl  "  (rest), 
which  meant  a  loss  of  from  six  to  eight 
miles  in  a  day's  travel.  It  must  luive  bec'u 
laziness,  because  he  is  a  half-breed  of  mas- 
sive bone  and  great  strength  and  over  six 
feet  in  height.  He  evidently  thought  he 
had  got  hold  of  a  "  moonyass,"  as  a  "  ten- 
derfoot" is  called  in  this  counti-y,  with 
whom  he  could  l)lay  any  game  he  chose; 
and  when  he  discovered  his  mistake  he 
grew  sulky,  developed  a  lame  knee,  sub- 
sequently a  sore  back,  and  delayed  the 


morning  start  by  his  reluctance  to  turn 
oiii  when  called  and  the  length  of  lime  he 
ccnisumed  in  packing  the  sledges.  The 
only  (lay  of  the  four  he  was  with  me  on 
which  1  got  him  to  .set  off  promptly  and 
travel  smartly  was  the  last  one,  when 
the  ])rosi)ect  of  reaching  a  deserted  calnn 
for  the  night's  camp  cari-ied  him  on.  I 
could  have  forgiven  him  the  lagging  be- 
hind, for  the  going  was  hai'd,  and  he  had 
none  o(  the  incentive  that  added  lu'rvous 
to  my  physical  enei'gy.  but  his  avaricious- 
ness  at  La  Biche  and  his  sullenness  on 
th(!  road  hardened  my  heart,  and  I  cut 
out  his  work  on  a  scale  that.  I  fancy,  made 
the  parting  between  us  one  for  mutual 
congratulation. 

And  .so  John  and  T  set  out  on  our  jour- 
ney, neither  of  us  knowing  whei'e  the 
moiTow  might  find  us,  and  I  with  a 
Cree  vocabulai-y  limited  to  "  im,"  "yes," 
"  hurry,"  and  "how  far  is  it?"'  I  do  iu)t 
know  how  many  miles  we  covered  the 
afternoon  Heming  tuined  homeward,  for 
I  was  loo  thoroughl  V  absoi-bed  in  thoughts 
of  what  was  coming  to  note  the  ])assing, 
but  the  camp  of  that  night  was,  luckily, 
the  best  we  made  on  the  ti'ip.  It  was 
sheltered  from  the  howling  wind,  wood 
was  plentiful,  and  with  blankets,  mocca- 
sins, and  leggings  hung  on  poles  to  dry 
before  the  blazing  logs,  might  even  have 
been  called  ))icturesque,  unless  that  quali- 
ty nuiy  be  said  to  disappear  when  the  mer- 
cury registers  4U°  below  zero  ten  feet  from 
the  fire.  We  were  not  likely  to  find  so 
favored  a  spot  another  night,  aiul  I  made 
John  know  he  should  take  advantage  of 
the  good  fire  and  prepare  "bannocks"  to 
last  us  a  few  days. 

The  b;innock  is  sim])ly  flour  and  water 
and  grease  thoroughly  kneaded  and  wcdl 
baked:  the  usual  method  of  cooking  is  to 
shai)e  the  dough  an  inch  dee))  to  the  in- 
side of  a  frying  pan,  and  stand  the  latter 
before  the  canii)-lire.  The  bannock  is 
not  beautiful  to  the  eye  nor  tempting  to 
the  fastidious  palate ;  moi'eover,  it  never 
rises  superior  to  thai  "sadness"  which  is 
the  characteristic  of  umlerdt)ne  bread  the 
world  over.  But  the  bannock  is  much 
Ix'tter  suited  to  the  needs  of  the  tripper  or 
V()!/(t<ifiii\  as  the  siH)wsh()e  traveller  is 
called,  than  the  light  yeast  bread  of  the 
grand  paijs.  The  bread  of  civilization 
is  filling,  but  lacks  substance;  the  ban- 
nock has  both  filling  and  substance;  and 
when  one  has  nothing  to  eat  but  bread 
and  tea  and  bacon,  and  is  running  five 


n 


■ji 

H 

> 
O 

u 

H 
CO 
H 

O 
> 

s 

O 

3] 

n 

H 


u 

7) 


ta 


H 

> 

o 
td 

H 
01 

H 

O 
> 

o 

a 


s 


\ 


214 


HARPERS    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


miles  an  liour  from  suiiviso  to  siinsut  day 
after  clay,  sui>staiice  is  a  dcsirubh^  quality. 
Wliil(^  John  madi'  tlic  bannocks.  I  attend- 
ed to  tliawin'i' lisli  for  IIkmIo^^s;  and  Avlien 
we  had  both  linishod  and  lij.'-lited  our  pipes 
I  undcrtooiv  to  hold  my  (ii'st  coiiversution 
with  him  in  the  laii;,''nage  of  sijiiis. 

The  waiMiin'i;'  most  imjjressed  upon  me, 
by  all  tliose  claiminj;  any  knowlcdj^c  of 
the  counti'3'  into  whieh  I  was  <;'oin<i\  had 
been  against  the  unreliability  of  tht^  Ind- 
ians. 1  had  been  told  of  their  tendency 
to  desert  under  ti-yin";  eonditions.  and  the 
little  there  was  to  read  on  the  subject  em- 
))hasi/.e(l  the  need  of  vigilance.  Tluit 
John  would  grow  tliscoin-aged.  and  quiet- 
ly steal  away  from  camp  sonu;  night,  was 
a  thoiight  which  jjossessed  and  wori'ied 
me  considerably.  I  was  prei)ared  to  see 
his  dismay  as  we  jdodded  <jn  in  the  hard 
going,  and  to  hear  his  grund)ling,  even 
though  I  could  not  understand.  l>ut  1  did 
not  propose,  if  I  could  prevent  it,  awak- 
ening one  morning  to  iind  him  and  the 
dogs  gone.  So  I  engaged  John's  atten- 
tion on  tliis  our  iirst  night  together,  and 
in   my  best  pantomime  I  tried  to  make 

him  understand 
that  if  he  staid 
with  me  to 
McMurray  and 
was  a  "  go(Kl  " 
Indian, Ishould 
be  "good"  to 
him,  but  if  he 
deserted  me  he 
had  better  cut 
my  throat  be- 
fore he  left 
camp,  as  other- 
wise I  should 
follow  his  trail 
and  kill  him. 
John  looked 
very  wise  and 
serious  during 
)ny  dramatic 
recital,  and  1  guess  he  understood  me. 
Whether  1h>  did  or  not,  certainly  his  dis- 
couragement in  tlie  trying  days  we  had 
subseciuenlly  never  i-(>aclied  a  mutinous 
l)oint.  and  I  fully  believe  he  needed  no 
intimidation  to  be  a  "good  Indian."  I 
wondercHl  that  night,  and  as  the  .scene 
has  come  up  before  me  many  times  since 
I  have  wondered  again,  wh.'it  that  Cree 
must  have  thought  of  this  white  man  who 
was  pushing  into  his  country  at  a  time 
when    he   himself  usual Iv  remained    in- 


oiiizzi.Yci.AW  ^KCKl..^cl^. 


doors,  had  pressed  him  into  a  service  for 
which  I'e  had  no  liking,  and  threatened 
to  take  his  life  if  he  forsook  it. 

Desi)ite  our  sheltered  position  and  the 
l)ig  lire,  I  put  in  an  uncomfortable  night 
in  tliis  i)icturesque  camj).  It  was.  in  fact, 
the  Iirst  of  many  uncomfortable  nights 
before  I  adjusted  my  blankets  and  robes 
])r()i)erly.  I  had  ample  bedding,  and  of 
course  could  have  got  Avarm  quickly 
enough  had  I  used  it  all,  but  that  was 
])recisely  what  I  did  not  want  to  do.  I 
wi.shed  to  use  the  smallest  amount  of  cov- 
ering possible,  and  yet  be  not  too  uncom- 
fortable to  preclude  sleep.  I  did  not  lose 
sight  of  the  fact  that  the  cold  I  was  then 
experiencing  was  as  sunmier  compared 
with  that  which  I  should  be  oljliged  to 
sustain  in  the  Barren  Grounds,  whither  I 
Avas  going.  And  as  I  had  trained  befoi-e 
leaving  New  York  for  extreme  physical 
exertion,  so  now  I  began  fitting  myself 
for  excessive  cold.  Jnd(>ed,  I  am  entire- 
ly convinced  it  was  my  very  careful  and 
thorough  previous  conditioning  that  en- 
abled me  to  withstand  the  starving  and 
freezing  to  which  I  was  subjected  on  this 
trip,  and  yet  come  out  of  it  in  sound 
physical  condition  and  without  having 
had  a  day's  siclcncss.  My  camping -out 
experience  had  been  rather  extensive, 
and  was  now  valuable  in  suggesting  ways 
of  nuiking  most  out  of  little.  An  old 
cami)aigner  will,  sim])ly  by  his  method 
of  wrapijing  it  about  him,  get  as  much 
if  not  nioi-e  warmth  out  of  a  single  blank- 
et than  the  tyro  will  out  of  two.  Nev- 
ertheless, with  all  my  experience,  for  the 
iirst  week  I  shivered  and  .shook  in  the 
bedding  I  permitted  myself,  and  the  temp- 
tation to  add  one  more  blanket  was  al- 
most irresistii)le. 

Not  that  the  atmosjdiere  was  colder 
than  I  had  before  e.rperienced,  for  40° 
below  is  by  no  means  uncommon  in  the 
Rocky  I\Iountains,  where  I  have  camjied, 
but  the  wind  nuide  me  so  miserable.  It 
blew  more  than  half  the  tinu>,  and  no- 
thing could  resist  its  scarchings.  It  went 
straight  through  capotes,  leggings,  and 
blankets,  and  made  sleep  imijossible  for 
me  several  nights  on  the  way  to  Mc]Mur- 
ray.  'I  he  dogs,  however,  seemed  un- 
mindful of  either  wind  or  cold.  At  night, 
aftei-  they  had  eaten  their  fish,  they 
would  go  a  few  yards  from  the  fire, 
scratch  a  way  a  little  of  the  top  snow,  ajid 
then  curl  up.  back  to  windward.  In  the 
morning  Avheii  they  AA'ere  dragged  to  liar- 


' 


ON   SNOW-SHOES   TO    THE   BARP.EN   GROUNDS. 


215 


i 


ness  lliey  left  tlie 
outline  of  their 
body  ill  the  snow, 
and  a  well -de- 
lined  depression, 
which  sometinies 
even  showed  the 
ground.  N«)thin<;: 
but  fur  can  insure 
warmth  or  even 
comfort  in  this 
chilling'  North. 
Fartlier  along', 
and  before  mak- 
ing my  bison  or 
musk-ox  hunt,  I 
secured  a  caribou- 
skin  capote  with 
tiie  fur  on,  nut 
until  I  got  one  I 
was  a  shivering 
victim  of  the 
wind.  The  ca- 
l)ot(i  I  had  fetch- 
ed from  Hamilton.  Canada,  was  useless;  only,  docorjr.  ;  piece  of  hisa])parel:  in 
having  been  made  of  unsmoked  leather,  j)resentation  they  are  the  vehicle  of  re- 
the  first  snow-storm  soaked  and  the  lire  gard  from  one  Indian  to  another;  they 
shrunk  it;  then  it  was  too  heavy  to  run  cari-y  the  lirst  tidings  of  a  more  tender 
in,  and  the  blanket  lining  was  greatly  sentiment  from  the  maiden  to  the  young 
inferior  to  fur  for  warmth.  No  garment  hunter,  and  are  the  surest  indication  not 
can  excel  the  caribou  capotes  made  by  only  of  the  degree  of  the  woman's  handi- 
tlie  Indians  for  exposure  in  the  excessive  craft,  but,  if  she  be  nuirried,  of  the  degree 
cold  and  piercing  winds  of  this  North  of  her  i-egai-d  for  the  husljand.  An  Ind- 
counlry.  They  are  very  light,  and  do  not  ian's  moccasins  are  a  walking  adverti.se- 
therefore  add  to  the  burden  of  the  voya-  nuMit  of  his  standing  at  home.  Bles.sed 
gen)\  while  being  literally  impervious  to  is  the  civilized  world  insonnich  as  its 
all  winds,  save  those  deadly  blasts  of  the  wives  are  not  its  I)oot-inakersI 
Bai'ren  Grounds.  I  was  not  long  in   reading  aright  the 

The   Indian   tripper  in  winter  first  se-     signs  of    the   moccasins,  and  ever   aftei". 


POLE    LODGE   IN    WHICH   MOOSE    AXD   CARIBOU    SKINS   ARE   SMOKED. 


when  1  required  any  made  at  the  jKisIs, 
first  sought  acquaintance  with  the  hus- 
band before  ordering.  No  doubt  many  a 
\){\\\'  of  shoes  I  .scanned 


cures  stout  nu)ccasins  and  new  "duH'el," 
and  next  looks  to  his  cai'il)ou-skin  capote. 
Anything  may  answer  for  trousers  or 
head-covering,  the  foi'mer,  indeed,  being 

moose  or  carihou  skin,  blanket,  or  "store     did  not  i-epresent  the  best 
pants  ■"  got  at  the  Hudson  Bay  Company     work  of  tlui  ))oor  devil's 
post  in  trade,  wiiile  the  conventioiuil  hat 
is    supplied    by    a   colored    liandkercliief 
wound   al)out    the  head,   just    above    tin* 
forehead  and  ears,  to  keep  the  long  hair 
in  place.     Formerly  it  was,  and  still  is  in 
the  more  I'oniote  secti(Uis,  a  moose  or  cari- 
bou thong  bound  i)y  sinew  and  decorated     l.ind   Indian   oi'namenta- 
with  porcupine  quill.      But  the  foot-cov-     tion,  is  done  in  beads,  in 
ering  must  be  of  the  best.      ]\Ioccasins  are    jjorcupine  quill,  or  in  silk 
made  of  smoked  moose-skin,  because  of    embioidery.      Silk -work 
its  thickness  (though  the  thinner  caribou-     is    of    somewhat    recent 
skin   is  equally  durable),  and  ai-e  really     introduction,  connned   entirely    to   lialf- 
the  i)ride  of  the  Indian  wardrobe.     They     breeds,  and    although    rather    well    exe- 
are   the    most,  and   very   frequently    the    cuted,  is  the  least  eti'ective.     The  French 


wife,  but  1  found  them  at 
least  accurate  in  deter- 
mining his  inipoi'tance 
within  his  own  tepee, 
^loccasin  decoration,  in 
fact.  ])ractically  all  Xorth- 


MOCCASIN8. 


216 


HARPER'S    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


ANCIKNT  KNIFK 
WITH  IIKAVKK- 
Tt)OTII   IlLADK. 


lialf-breeds  are  largely  rosponsil)!;'  for  tlie 
bead  embroidery,  which  is  the  v()<,''ii('  ;ill 
over  the  northern  part  of  this  country. 
0:;e  sees  moccasins,  mittens,  Ic^-^iinjiS,  all 
in  the  beaded  !lo\ver  ptitlcriis.  taken  from 
nature,  iiiid  tliertsfore  somcwliat  notewor- 
thy, hut  not  nearly  .so  strikinj^'  as  tiie  pun* 
Indian  designs  of  the  mor(!  southerly 
trilx's.  The  porcupine-(iuill  work  is  truly 
Indian,  iind,  at  its  best,  exceedingly  pretty, 
both  in  design  and  coloring, 
though  only  tlie  most  skilful 
can  do  it  acce{)tably,  for  each 
tiny  (piill  is  woven  in  sepa- 
rately, and  th(!  weaver's  in- 
genuity or  lack  of  it  is  re- 
vealed in  the  design.  Tlie 
best  si)ecinnuis  of  this  work 
are  seen  in  the  women's 
Ijelts,  thougli  it  is  put  on 
moccasins,  shirts,  skirts, 
gun-coats,  as  well  as  on  the 
bir<'li-bark  baskets  called  ro- 
gans,  and  used  for  every  ])ur- 
])ose.  "DuU'el''  is  a  thick 
blanket  stull',  wliich,  togeth- 
er with  '■  sti'ouds,"  a  simi- 
lar though  mon^  closely 
spun  material,  the  Hudson 
Bay  Company  introduced  and  christened. 
DuU'el  is  used  for  socks, and  strouds  for  leg- 
gings, aiul  both  are  manufactured  express- 
ly for  the  trade  in  this  country.  The  Ind- 
ian gets  his  dulTel  by  the  yard,  and  when 
he  has  cut  it  into  strips  about  six  inches 
wide  by  eighteen  inches  long  his  socks 
are  completed.  Their  adjustnu'iit  is  equal- 
ly simple,  for  it  is  only  to  begin  at  the 
toes  and  wind  the  piece  throughout  its 
length  al)out  the  foot.  The  lialf- breed 
takes  his  duil'el  home,  where  it  is  shaped 
and  sewed  into  crude  socks,  and  if  his 
wife  thinks  well  of  him,  and  is  clever, 
she  will  vary  them  ii!  size  (as  two  or 
three  pairs  ai'c  worn  at  a  time  insido  the 
moccasin),  and  f;uicy-stitch  them  in  col- 
ored yarn.  I  ti'ied  both  styl(>s  of  sock. 
and  prefer  the  Indi;in's  simpler  kind;  it 
is  more  quickly  thawed  out  and  di'ied  at 
night;  if  one  end  weai-s  or  burns,  you  can 
rearranges  it  so  that  a  good  part  covers  the 
toes  and  heel — the  most  important  to  keep 
fi'om  freezing;  and  you  can  lit  it  more 
snugly,  which  is,  I  think,  its  greatest  ad- 
vantage, because,  if  you  do  not  happen  to 
have  a  wife  to  direct,  or,  having  one.  do 
not  stand  high  in  her  estimaiion,  your 
socks  will  be  of  the  same  size,  and  all  too 
large.      Consequently  3'our  feet  will  slip 


about,  which  is  most  tiresome  in  long  and 
hard  walking,  and  the  socks  will  freeze 
into  wrinkles  and  knots  that  will  cut 
your  toes  and  inste)),  and  very  likely 
eventually  cripple  you  when  youi"  snow- 
shoe  strings  have  also  become  frozen. 

The  denial  I  ])i'actised  in  th<i  matter  of 
blankets  proved  doubly  advanlngeous. 
It  conditioned  jue  so  that  very  soon  I 
slept  soundly  and  comfortably,  and  it 
j)rove(l  a  blessing  to  John,  to  whom  1 
gave  of  my  surplus.  lie  was  vi^ry  ylad 
to  get  the  additional  blanket,  and  1  lu'ver 
encountered  an  Indian  thi'oughout  my 
trip  who  was  not  thankful  for  any  extra 
covering,  even  a  coat,  that  I  let  him  have. 
This  is  apropos  of  the  declaration  made 
to  the  venturer  into  this  country  that  the 
Indians  .scorn  more  than  one  blanket.  I 
heard  it  on  all  sides.  "What,  two  pairs 
of  blankeis?  Why,  the  Indians,"etc.,  etc. 
When  these  Indians  sleep  under  one 
blanket  it  is  because  they  have  no  .second, 
nor  do  they  keep  warm  '"in  the  coldest 
niglits."  The  conti'ary  is  all  misei-able 
boasting.  !My  experience  was  that  they 
could  not  stand  any  greater  cold  than  I; 
when  it  was  merely  discomforting-  they 
were  mor(>  indiU'ei-ent  to  it  than  a  white 
man  would  be,  for  the  veiw  good  reason 
that  while  the  white  man  has  always  been 
well  clothed  and  fed  and  protected,  the 
red  man  has  been  half  clothed  and  fed  and 
never  protected.  Naturall  j'  the  latter  does 
not  mind  exposures  that  must  seem  some- 
what trying  on.  first  expei-ience  to  the  for- 
mer. For  instance,  in  sitting  about  camp, 
the  Indiiins,  as  a  rule,  wore  the  same  coat 
in  wliich  they  had  been  running,  wiiereas 
I  found  a  heavier  one  more  comfortable. 
It  was  not  that  the  Indians  wei-e  warm, 
but  they  were  used  to  discomfort.  I 
wi-ai)ped  up  less  than  they  when  snow- 
shoeing,  but  more  than  they  in  camp. 
When  it  came  to  withstanding  the  fear- 
ful cold  and  withering  storms  of  the  Bar- 
I'on  Grounds,  mv  endui-ance  was  as  creat, 
and  my  suH'ering,  judging  from  ajjpear- 
ances,  not  so  much  as  theirs.  This  is  be- 
causf!  this  i)Mrticular  Indi;in  lias  no  heart, 
no  nervous  enei'gy,  no  reserve  force. 
Confronted  by  the  unexi)ected  or  inexi)li- 
ca]>le.  he  gives  no  urgency  to  his  etroi-ts, 
he  seeks  no  solution  ;  he  simply  gives  up. 
He  bus  none  of  that  do-or-die  sentiment; 
he  ))refers  to  die.  Dump  an  Indiim  and 
abound  white  man  into  a  snow  bank,  and 
the  latter  would  ])robab]y  freeze  to  death 
first,  but  in  a  struggle  for  existence  under 


o 

o 

2! 

> 


> 


ll 


O 
o 


3 


•vK. 


218 


IIAItl'KIiS    NKW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINP:. 


any  ••'iiKlilKius  I  lie  wliili-  man  woulil  ^,'•0 
f.'irl.ln'i'  ami  l<i'i'|i  ^'oiny-  lon^rc).  iluni  i|ic 
dmI  man. 

/\h  111  llic  l)i'(|(liii(r  (jiicst  ion,  wln'ii  I  was 
on  my  lninn'\var<l  jdiiniiy  in  May  I  iiottd 
Indians  sl('('|)in;^  undi'i'  lln-  sanir  iinmlx't' 

of  Idanlo'ls  tlic\'  had 


,-^' 


nscd  uiiilr  I  was 
making;'  my  way 
(iiwai'ds(ii'''al  Sla\  <! 
liaUc  in  .lannary. 
What  did  sni'pi'isf! 
me  at.  lii'st.  liowcvcr, 
was  I  lie  l(»uylin(!ss 
«>!'  liicir  iVi't.  I  maf- 
Vfiicd  liow  tlicy 
could  sleep  willi 
tiieni  slifkiii^''  out 
from  under  tlie 
hlanUels,  with  no 
oIIht  protection 

from  the  cold  than 
that,  rurnislicd  liy 
tln>  moccasin.  1 
ceased  to  \von(l(>r 
once  I  had  vitnved 
the  (juarttM-  -  iiicli 
layei"  of  »>|)iderinis 
on  tli(>  heel.s  anil 
soles. 

There  is  .some 
comfort  in  the  re- 
tlcction  thai.  .lolin 
and  i  h;ul  a  ijood 
camp  that  lirst  niyht 
we  w  (M'c  alone,  foi- 
lhtM'(>  was  hiitcrness  cnouu'li  in  store  for  us 
in  llie  nt>xl  foiu'  days.  To  he.uin  with,  it 
was  iuipossil)It>  for  mc  to  W(>ar  snow  shoes 
in  l>reakin<r  trail  for  thedon's,  altluMiiih  llit> 
snow  was  ncaily  knee  dtH>p  and  the  ji'oinii' 
heavy,  hccan>c  1  liad  lU'vtM-  nseil  a  weh 
snow  slux^  h(M'on\  and  cmisi^piently  was 
not  siilVu'iiMilly  expei'l  to  t'oel  the  McMm-- 
ray  trail  under  lht>  t'oot  and  a  half  of  snow 
and  to  follow  lliis  trail  hy  l"c('lin>:-  it  was 
onr  only  nutans  o(  i^uidance.  Then  our 
h.'iciMi  was  ;'.hoal  out,  and  we  had  hut  one 
nu\'il  of  lish  iov  l]\o  ilo^s.  Tlierefore  I 
was  not  hilarious  when  we  started  otV  al 
t\>ur  in  tlic  moruini:-  in  a  hliiuliiii:-  snow- 
slinan.  "  Shol  "'  had  loul  nie  soniclhin^- 
of  the  nature  of  the  country  over  wiiich 
tlie  trail  led.  hut  the  country  was  all  alike 
10  us  in  that  s;orn\.  1  know  w  (>  wtuil 
throui:h  wooiis,  1"or  several  times  1  fell 
heavily  ai:\unsi  a  tree,  hat  nothing:-  was 
visihle  excejM  on  closest  inspection  ^ly 
senses   were   .all   i'onccntrated   on    feeling 


iioti  wmr 


that  trail,  and  my  cnorjjies  directed  to 
\vciith(!iin<,'-  th(!  storm,  whoso  fury  was 
h(';,'-inniny  to  he  the  more  pci'ceptihhi  hy 
the  dawninj,'-  of  day.  w  luai  hnddei.i,v  I 
dropped  ihi'on^li  spam — I  tlion<,flit  at  the 
time  al)out  twenty  feet,  hut  T  {jness  it  was 
not  more  than  ten  and  IIks  do<;s  and 
the  sledye  and  .lolin  f(dl  on  top  of  me. 
When  we  had  disenia nailed  our.s(dves,  I 
luid  a  moi'e  pn/./.liny  situation  to  unravel 
in  determining  when;  we  wen;  "at." 

I  felt  sure  1  had  not  lost  the  trail,  hut 
corrohoration  was  out  of  the  (luestion, 
heeause  the  road  made  hy  our  do<;s  and 
sledj^-e  I'endered  feelinj,''  the  undcrlyinj? 
old  on(^  that  liad  jruided  lue  impossihie. 
(Join^'-  ahead  a  little  distance,  I  found  we 
were  on  a  lake,  hut  c(vul(l  discover  no 
trail,  ami  the  stoi-m  made  travellinfj  l)y 
landmarks  impossih-e  even  had  I  known 
any,  which  of  course  1  did  not.  John's 
.s(>ai'ch  for  a  trail  ])roved  no  hap])ier  tliaii 
mine,  and  then  he  wanted  to  camp;  but 
1  exhausted  two-thirds  of  my  Cree  vocab- 
nlary  in  "no"  and  "hurry"  npon  him. 
and  we  made  a  wider  circuit  with  no 
heller  success.  This  time  he  was  deter- 
mined to  camp;  and  the  sleet  was  cut- 
lint:'  our  faces  and  the  doji's  were  howling 
and  it  was  miserable.  But  we  didiTt 
camp.  Ajiain  I  made  a  cast,  and  this 
lime  t'oi-  a  liiid.  I  was  sure  of  a  piece  of 
ti'ail.  hut  whence  it  came  and  whither  it 
went  I  could  \u)t  determine.  The  snow- 
was  either  blown  away  or  packed  so  hard 
it  was  siin]>ly  imjiossible  to  follow  a  trail 
for  any  distance.  We  would  travel  a 
little  way  only  to  lose  it  and  betrin  our 
searchine-  anew:  another  find,  followed 
closely  by  ;v  check  and  yet  another  lieart- 
breakino-casl.  And  thus,  how  many  miles 
I  know  not.  we  worked  tnu"  way  across 
that  .lack  Fish  Lake  in  the  leeth  of  a  storm 
that  whirled  aro\ind  us  nnceasinjrly.  and 
it  was  one  o'ldock  wIumi  we  crawled  u|) 
the  hank  and  discoveretl  a  cabin  which  I 
knew  must  he  the  one  where  "Shot"  had 
said  1  could  e-oi  tish, 

We  L;ot  oiu'  doirs  on  the  leeward  side, 
anil  then  siai:-<:-ereil  into  the  cabin,  covered 
fnMu  head  to  foot  by  ice  and  numb  willi 
cold.  Tiie  house  was  full  of  Indians,  but 
tliere  was  no  exclamation  of  surprise 
ujion  otn-  ajipearance.  Half-frozen  men 
are  o\  too  common  occurrence  in  this 
Northland  to  create  connnent.  They 
made  way  for  us  at  the  lire,  of  which  we 
did  IU1I  immediately  avail  ourselves — foi- 
we  botli  had  fro/.eu  ears  and  noses — and 


, 


ox    SNUW-SUUES   TO   THE   BARKEN   GROUNDS. 


219 


lil 


I 

ul 


■a 
li 


4 


e 


they  piislied  tlie  teakettlo  nearer  tlie  jrlow- 
ing'  coals;  but  no  one  nttered  a  sound, 
tlioiijih  tliey  eyed  me  with  ill-conceah'd 
curiosity.  IJy  -  aiul-l)y.  wlien  we  liad 
tiiawed  out.  .lohn  and  I  drank  tea  and 
ate  a  slice  of  bacon  from  our  scanty  stock, 
and  tlien  I  sijiiied  him  to  <jet  lish  for  the 
dogs;  but  much  tallviii<>'  was  followed  only 
by  sullen  silence,  and  no  lish  were  forth- 
coinin<T.  Fish  we  must  have;  and  as  I  sat 
pon(h'rin<»'  over  the  situation,  I  discovered 
a  liddlo  iian<;inij:  ajijainst  the  wall,  and 
tlioufflit  an  excellent  opportunity  offered 
of  tryiny  tlie  power  of  n\usic  to  sootlie 
the  sava<fe  breast,  so  I  handed  tlu!  instru- 
ment to  John,  whom  I  had  lieard  play  at 
La  Biche,  and  what  with  his  iiddlinj,''  and 
my  distribution  of  tobacco,  it  was  not  very 
long  before  we  had  the  Indians  jabbering 
again,  and  two  days'  fish  for  the  dogs. 

The  wind  was  still  howling  and  the 
snow  falling  when  we  started  on  an  hour 
Liter,  against  the  i)rotestations  of  the 
Indians,  who  wanted  us  and  om*  tea  and 
tobacco  to  remain  overnight;  but  our 
supplies  wei'e  too  low  to  warrant  their 
consumption  in  idleness,  and  we  had  put 
another  eight  or  nine  miles  behind  us  be- 
fore we  made  a  wretched  camp  in  the  mus- 
keg, with  scarce!  V  wood  enough  to  make 
a  tire,  and  not  a  level  spot  to  throw  down 
our  blankets.  It  cleared  np  during  the 
night,  and  when  we  broke  camp  the  next 
morning  at  four  the  moon  shone  as 
serenely  as  though  it  had  not  yielded  to 
a  greater  and  fiercer  power  the  night  be- 
fore. Before  daybreak  the  trail  ran  into 
some  rather  open 
woods,  through  .  -~  ~ 
which  the  moon's 
soft  light  playc  cl 
with  wondrouslj 
fantastic  effect, 
and  when  the  first 
streaks  of  yellow 
in  the  northeast 
heralded  the  ris- 
ing of  the  sun.  we 
had  left  the  shad- 
ow of  the  trees 
and  were  travel- 
ling in  the  nms- 
keg.  I  shall  al- 
ways remember 
that  morning  as 
giving  me  the 
most  beautiful 
picture  I  ever  be- 
held   in    nature's 


album:  the  sun  coming  up  on  my  I'ight, 
the  moon  going  down  on  my  left — one 
i)ursting  forth  in  all  his  golden  splcndoi'. 
while  the  other  slowly  withdrew  her  sil- 
very light.  And  Ix'twecn  and  far  below 
the  two  heavenly  rivals  plodded  .lohn  and 
the  dogs  and  1.  footsoi-e  and  hungry,  but 
appreciative. 

I  was  destined  to  be  brought  to  earth 
very  suddenly  and  somewhat  inglorious- 
ly,  for  the  sun  had  but  just  dispelled  the 
gi'ay  gloom  of  early  morning,  and  1  was 
clipping  along  at  a  meri-y  gait  across  tlio 
deadly  muskeg,  with  a  large  lake  in  sight, 
and  John  and  the  dogs  not  far  behind, 
when  down  I  tumbled  in  a  heap,  with 
a  sprained  ankle.  Silting  in  the  snow 
chafing  my  aidvle  was  not  going  to  bring 
us  food  nor  get  me  to  the  Ban-en  Grounds, 
so  I  wound  moose-skin  tightly  about  the 
injured  part,  and  took  my  place  again  be- 
fore the  dogs.  At  first  1  could  not  stand 
without  the  aid  of  a  stout  stick,  and  we 
made  headway  so  slowly  that  after  a  few 
miles  I  threw  away  iriv  crutch,  and  in  a 
determination  to  try  the  i)ower  of  mind 
over  matter,  linijied  on. 

I  should  not  advise  Christian  scientists 
to  put  their  faith  to  such  a  test ;  no  con- 
vert was  ever  more  open  to  conviction 
than  T  —  spirit  willing,  mind  rece])tive, 
but  the  flesh  so  mortally  weak  that  every 
time  I  put  down  my  left  foot  it  gave  way 
to  the  knee.  And  so,  faith  failing,  I 
gritted  my  teeth  and  vowed  to  get  on 
some  way.  After  a  while  the  jiain  grew 
duller,  and    my   leg  giving  under   me,  I 


DRYING    FISH— THE   STAPLE    FOOD    OF    MAN    AND    DOG. 


220 


HARPER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


discovereil  tlie  tijjlit  hiiidiiitf  and  the  cold 
had  frozen  the  llesli;  us  1  coiihl  not  nav- 
i{^ate  witlioiit  tlie  siipporl  of  the  moose- 
skin  hindiii;^,  and  a  Iro/en  anlde,  llioii^li 
less  painful,  held  nie  up  not  so  well  as 
a  twisted  one,  I  was  theieafler  occupied 
quite  as  much  iu  keepiiiy  thai  anUle  jilive 
in  all  its  |)aiMfuI  sensitiveness  as  I  was 
in  keepinj;  it,  t,''oinj;'  al  all.  We  held  oui- 
way,  liow(n-ei',  and  the  lake  1  had  si^ihted 
proved  to  h(!  JJii;-  While*  Fish,  where  I 
traded  .some  l()l)acc()  for  lisli  for  the  doj;s, 
hut  could  gel  none  to  eke  out  the  little 
hacon  now  lefl  us. 

Here  I  had  my  lirst  view  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  these  fish  art*  hung  upon 
stagings  — first  to  dry,  suhsequently  to 
freeze,  and  ever  to  he  beyond  tlus  icach 
of  the  always  half  starved  dogs.  Tlierti 
are  other  stagings,  conihining  larder  and 
storeliouse  for  the  Indian,  and  more  ne- 
cessary than  his  lodge,  where*  he  puts  his 
meat,  fresh  pelts,  snow-shoes,  ;ind  sledges. 
Snow-shoes  and  sledges  do  not  sound  pal- 
atable, but  the  caribou-skin  lacings  of  the 
former  and  moose  wriip{)er  and  lines  of 
the  latter  make  quite  a  succulent  dish,  as 
meals  go  in  this  land  of  feast  or  famine. 
Every  Indian  cabin  or  lodge  has  its  sta- 
ging, and  all  things 
eatable  are  hung  upon 
it  for  .safety.  And  it  is 
liere  the  dogs  do  con- 
gregate to  voice  their 
hunger  in  mournful 
howlijig,  and  vent 
their  frenzied  disap- 
poinlnient  in  furious 
lighting.  Indian  dogs 
spend  most  of  their 
time  fighting;  when 
it  is  not  one  another, 
it  is  against  death  by 
starvation. 

If  I  failed  of  in- 
creasing our  supplies  at  this  settle- 
ment, I  did  gel  a  map,  which  at  least 
aimed  to  show  me  the  way  to  plenty. 
It  was  a  puzzling  creation,  that  map, 
which  one  of  the  Indians  drew  in  my 
note-book  to  give  us  some  idea  of  the  di- 
rection of  the  trail  across  the  six  lakes 
that  lay  between  us  and  the  next  Indian 
camp  on  White  Fish  Lake.  Once  at 
White  Fish  Lake,  and  we  had  but,  fifteen 
miles  to  John  MacDonald's,  on  Big  Jack 
Fish  Lake,  the  McMurray  fishery,  and 
home  of  one  of  the  best  known  and  hard- 
iest voyageurs  in  the  country.      But  Big 


MUCCAblNS. 


Jack    Fish    Lake    was    two    days'  travel 
away,  and  meanwhile  my  ankle  made  lif** 
intoh>rable,  and    the    map    proved    more 
maddening  than  the  fifteen  puzzle.      We 
made  only  sevn  miles  the  afternoon  of 
the  day    I   sprained   my   ankle;    we   had 
covered  twenty  up  to  noon;  butaftt  r  my 
i-est  I  could  barely  move  along,  and  be- 
sides, w(*  wer<!  continually  falling  foul  of 
trails,  which  ai)peared  coming  from  every- 
where, and  went  nowhere.      All  tliis  and 
the  following  day  we  travelled  over  mus- 
keg, i)articularly  severe  on  me  now,  with 
an  ankle  so  tender,  and  really  only  one 
fo(tl  with  which  to  feel   the  road.      But, 
afterall,  the  muskeg  waskinderto  us  than 
tilt*  lakes,  for  when  we  reached  these  we 
invariably  lt)st  the  trail,  tt)  find  and  as 
speedily  lt)se  it  again,  while  it  was  abso- 
lutely inipt)ssible  tt)  judgt*  from  its  direc- 
tion  where  it  eventually   left  the  lake. 
Indians    never    by    any    chance    travel 
straight.      Throughout    the    (about)    900 
miles  of  trail  I  followed  from  Edmonton 
to  Ft)rt  Rt>solution,  on  Great  Slave  Lake, 
ihere  is  but  the  single  exception  of  the 
Slave  Lake  ])ortage;  for  the  rest,  it  looks 
as  tht)ugh  the  oi-iginal  traveller  had  sat 
up  all  night  at  Edmonton  with  a  sick 
friend  and  a  barrel,  and  then  started  to 
■walk  home.    At  best  its  windings  are  hard 
to   follow,  but    wnen   one    may   advance 
only   by    feeling,  its    dillicullies    become 
tenfold,  and   yet    it   is   remarkable   how 
skilled  one  becomes  in  this  method  of  pro- 
cedure.    I  grew  sulliciently  expei-t  after 
a  time,  and  where  there  was  good  bottom 
to  the  trail,  to  ft)llow  it  running,  about  a 
five-niile-per-hour  gait,  though  there  was 
literally  no  indication  on  the  snow's  sur- 
f:"ce  t)f  a  trail  beneath. 

Added  to  the  mi.sery  of  bodily  ailment, 
the  map  disti-acted  me  by  its  deceptions. 
The  lengths  of  lines  drawn  by  the  Indian 
tt)  represent  ihe  poilages  between  the 
lakes  gave  no  indication  of  the  compar- 
ative distances.  The  first  "line"  was 
sht)rt,  and  we  covered  it  in  a  couple  of 
hours;  the  next  t)ne  was  about  the  same 
length,  but  we  wore  half  a  day  crossing 
the  country  between  the  two  lakes  it 
joined  ;  the  third  line  was  fully  four 
times  as  long  as  the  longer  of  the  other 
two.  yet  we  were  only  half  an  hour  going 
from  end  to  end  of  it. 

And  every  little  while,  when  a  lost  or 
blind  trail  dismayed  us,  and  we  cast  about 
to  find  our  true  course,  we  looked  at  eacli 
other,  John  and  I,  and  pitied  one  another 


T^M'-in.  ^trt.ngra*.- 


SOUR  GKAPES. 


r 


for  living.  We  could  not  exchange  ideas; 
we  could  not  have  tlie  ])oor  comfort  of  de- 
batin<>'  the  situation  ;  we  could  only  make 
a  few  imperfect  sij^ns,  which  exj)ressed  lit- 
tle to  the  point,  and  seemed  frivolous  in  thi' 
face  of  a  sitiuition  so  desjierate.  Once  o>;r 
leadiiij:^  dofr.  who  is  always  called  u  fore- 
fi'oer,  found  the  trail  on  the  lake,  and 
showed  remarkable  sagacitj,  which,  by- 
the-\va,\,  we  trusted  to  our  sorrow  later. 
This  time,  however,  he  came  to  our  res- 
cue when  we  were  utterly  lost;  he  ceased 
followiufjf  the  imaginary  trail  I  was  hob- 
l)Iing  along,  and  after  a  few  casts,  settled 
to  a  steady  gait  in  another  direction, 
.lolm  also  thought  he  had  a  trail,  wliich 
he  endeavored  to  persuade  the  dogs  into 
following,  but  the  foregoer  held  his  way, 
and  when  we  inv(>stigated  we  found  he 
bad  really  the  only  trail  of  the  three. 
The  snow  was  dee])er  on  this  part  of  our 
route,  which  made  the  walking  yet  hard- 
er; but  by  one  way  or  another  we  finally 
crossed  the  six  lalces  shown  on  the  Ind- 
ian's map,  and  came  to  While  Fish  Lake. 
Here  we  managed  to  get  just  a  meal  of 


fish  for  the  d,»gs,  but  none  for  ourselves, 
to  whicii.  however,  we  bad  beconu-  accus- 
tomed. We  rested  two  hours,  while  I 
bathed  my  feet,  much  to  tlie  wonderment 
of  the  natives,  to  whom  it  .seemed  an  un- 
a'"'.'oun table  waste  of  energy,  and  rul)bed 
my  aidvle  with  some  of  the  nuislaiig  lini- 
numt  I  had  fetched  along  from  l^a  liiche. 
There  were  but  foni'tetMi  miles  1)etween  us 
ami  John  ^MacDonald's  cabin,  on  Big  Jack 
Fish  Lake,  when  we  set  v^U  again  at  two 
o'clock  ;  and  the  i)rospect  of  tilking  again, 
and  having  a  roof  over  my  Jiead.  nerved 
me  to  faster  pace.  I  was  destined  to  see 
neither  AlacDonald  nor  his  house  that 
night.  Some  Lidiiins  had  recently  trav- 
elled between  the  two  lalces,  so  there  was 
a  faint  trail,  which  we  followed  at  so  good 
a  gait  it  was  not  dark  wlien  we  came  to 
where  the  road  led  out  on  to  Big  Jack 
Fisli  Lake.  But  by  this  time  a  fiei-ce  storm 
had  set  in,  with  snow  which  completely 
shut  off  our  view  twenty  feet  distant,  and 
Avind  that  swept  away  the  last  semldance 
of  a  trail.  I  tried  to  feel  out  the  road, 
then  John  tried,  and  then  we  gave  the 


222 


HAUrKUb    NEW    MONTIIIA'    MAdAZINK. 


fort'CocM-  his  liciid;  jiikI.  siirn  «>ii()il[;li,  lio 
\V«'iit  oil'  at  a  liitf  uliicli  cuiiv  iiicrtl  lis  li(^ 
tiitiNt  liiivu  found  s(>ni('tliiii(.''.  And  so  lie 
li.id  ;  l)nt  \vt!  wcic  not  srcUiny  tlic  ro;id 
III-  found.  \V»'  tiavcllcd  aljoiil  Icii  miles 
to  (jet  lliat  kiiowlrdyc. 

Tln-i'c  is  a  point  wliicli  nial«'s  out  from 
tli«;  iioi'th  sliort'  of  tin-  lalo'  and  divides  it 
into  two  laiyc  liavs.  MacDonald'.s  cabin  is 
on  llic  Ufstcin  l)ay.  I  supposed  .folin  knew 
it  was.  We  liad  iield  an  animated  tlioueli 
not  tMitirtdy  successful  conversation  at 
Wliitf^  Kisli,  wliicli  I  intended  should  e.\- 
pres.s  my  wish  that  he  learn  tlu;  distance, 
etc.  Tlie  Creo  for  "How  far  is  hi"  in 
"  Wall  he  6  che  "  ;  for  "It  is  far,"  you 
drop  only  the  "die,"  and  say  "Wah- 
lic-o."  ]iut  T  was  not  then  so  learned.  So 
I  hatl  asKed  .lolin,  "  Wah-h(M')cli(!  — Mac- 
Donalds  ^"'  and  .lolin  had  i-eplied— after 
some  discussion  with  the  other  Indians — 
"Wah-he  o."  I  supposed  him  correcliiii^ 
me.  and  as  this  particular  C!rce  query  was 
my  fn't'cc  (Ic  resisfancc,  "  Wah-he oclic '' 
— with  an  accent  on  the  "die" — ajuaiii 
|)ierced  the  diilly  air.  and  a<;ain  he  re- 
torted. "Wall-he  (').''  Then  we  wah-htvo- 
che'd  and  wah-h(!-o"d  until  eadi  sul)sideil 
in  silence  ami  dis<;'ust  at  the  others  .stu- 
pidity. 

And  so  wo  travelled  down  the  eastern 
bay  of  l?ij;'  Jack  Kish  Lake.  It  <i()t  dark 
by  the  time  we  were  well  out  on  the  lake; 
we  could  not  have  seen  our  way  in  broad 
daylit^ht,  because  the  snow  was  thickly 
fallinj''  and  the  wind  savagely  biowiii<f 
as  we  blindly  followed  the  tail  of  our 
sledji'e.  By-and-by  I  decided  w  .mist 
be  e'oiiif,^  wroiifi;',  for  I  tlioiij^ht  tlie  tiibin 
could  not  be  .so  far  off  as  we  had  come, 
and  I  yot  John  and  the  doi^s  turned  about 
to  ji'o  back  ami  into  th*^  westei-n  bay.  Tluf 
storm  was  now  squarely  in  our  teetli,  and 
the  do<j:s  would  not  face  it.  They  kei)t 
turning  and  entangling  themselves  in  the 
harness,  while  we  wei'e  faint  witli  hunger 
and  benumbed  with  cold,  and  my  ankle 
seemed  bursting  with  pain. 

I  made  the  nearest  a|)i)roach  I  could  in 
the  storm  to  a  bee-line  for  the  jioint.  and 
then  followed  it  around.  I  had  not  the 
remotest  idea  wiior(>  ^lacDonald's  house 
was.  but  I  knew  I  sliould  liave  to  lind  it 
in  the  morning  to  get  my  bearings;  so 
after  we  had  gone  al)()ut  as  far  down 
the  western  l)ay  as  we  hail  into  the  east- 
ern, we  camped  under  a  pine-tree,  Avliere 
wood  was  plentiful,  and  ate  a  piece  of 
bacon  each  and  drank  a  cup  of  tea,  after 


a  hard  days  tramp— which  my  pedom- 
eter registered  as  f.)rty-four  miles.  Our 
dogs  ale  the  last  of  their  lish,  Jtdin  and  [ 
were  on  half  allowance  of  the  poor  ra- 
tions we  had,  we  were  lost,  and  it  did  not 
8eeni  UH  if  my  u)d<le  would  permit  me  to 
walk  another  step.  The  woi-ld  was  not 
very  bright  when  we  camped  that  night. 

As  we  sat  sihuilly  drinking  our  tea  wo 
heard  something  approachine*,  and  in- 
stantly alert,  with  that  protectiv*'  and 
hunter's  instinct  which  <'omes  to  the  trav- 
eller of  the  wilds,  listened  intently,  until 
wo  discovered  the  swishing,  grating  of  a 
sin)W-slioe  heel.  It  was  Kipling,  a  fainous 
Soto  Indian  iMiniier,  who  had  couk!  to  in 
vite  me  to  MacDonald's  cabin,  where,  but 
a  mile  beyond,  they  had  seen  our  camj)- 
lire.  James  Spencer,  the  Hudson  Hay 
Company's  oflieer  in  charge  of  McMui'- 
ray,  had  brought  thus  fai-  on  its  ,iour- 
ney  the  one  winter  i)acket  that  reaches 
the  railroad  from  this  isolated  wilderness, 
and  was  i-eturnitig  the  lu'xt  moi'uing- 
early.  Here  was  good  news  indeed,  and 
good  luck — the  first  of  my  trip.  Hut 
.loliu  had  stuck  by  me,  and  1  was  not  go- 
ing to  leave  him  on  the  coiidusiou  of  so 
hard  a  day;  lheiefor«!  I  sent  my  grateful 
thanks  to  Spencer,  saying  1  would  be  on 
liand  the  following  morning.  And  so  the 
clouds  rolled  away,  and  the  worry  within 
and  the  storm  without  ceased  as  I  lay 
down  to  sleep  that  night. 

It  was  a  very  lively  scene  at  ^lacDon- 
ald's  next  morning,  and  a  most  interest- 
ing one  to  me;  for  the  ])acket  was  start- 
ing on  its  last  stage,  and  as  to  carry  the 
})acket  is  one  of  the  few  lioiiors  in  tin; 
country,  the  dogs  were  hamlsomer  and 
more  gayly  harnessed  than  any  I  had 
seen.  It  was  only  seventy  miles  to 
McMurray,  but  the  two  days  we  consumed 
ill  getting  there  were  most  trying,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  the  ten-mile  crossing 
of  Swan  Lake  the  lirst  morning.  We 
camju'd  for  dinner  midway,  on  an  island, 
but  it  seemed  as  though  I  should  never 
reacli  it;  and  a  mirage  added  confusion 
by  i)laciiig  it  now  near  i)y  and  then  far 
away,  and  all  the  time  the  hai'd  ice  made 
running  particularly  torlui'ing  to  my  an- 
kle. The  tea  was  made  by  tlie  time  I  final- 
ly ])ut  my  foot  on  that  island.  It  was 
exceedingly  hard  going  for  men  and  dogs 
all  the  way  to  ]\Ic^^urray.  for  the  trail  led 
down  Clear  W.iter  River,  on  which  the 
supplies  in  early  days  were  brought  into 
tlie  country,  and  the  snow  was  deep.    We 


ON    SNOW  SlIoKS    TO    rilK    HAHUKN    (JHorNDS. 


$9S 


wore  all  wnni,  iiiid  I  Uiis  tliiiiiUriil  iiiilrcd 
wlicii  the  liylil  id'  Sprncers  ciiliiii  pit  reed 
llio  darkness  and  I  knew  I  Imd  |nit  '^-lli 
miles  of  my  jonjr  jninney  lieliind  me. 

Iluw  1  i'i'li>|itMl  a  ouiid  wash  an<l  a  sat- 
iNl'yiii(;  nteal  I  sliall  mhI  atlenipl,  to  Huy; 
few  <d"  my  readers  have  yone  withoiil 
eilhei-  or  Ix'th,  and  eoiild  not  appieeiale 
my  feeiinji'H.  Nor  could  I  adecpialely  e.\- 
pi'css  my  yi'atiliide  to  Speneer  and  his 
wife  for  llieir  iineeasinj;  kindness.  I 
spent  one  day  at.  MeMiin-ay,  wliieli  is  ]i> 
caled  at  the  Junction  of  the  Clear  Water 
and  Alhal)asca  rivers,  doctoriny  my  an- 
kl(3  and  iiwaitin;^'  I'resli  i\uffH  ami  ^'uides; 
for  here  John  and  his  do^s,  alter  a  rest, 
turned  hack.  If  Spencer  had  heen  ol" 
Gaii'dner's  sort.  I  should  have  heen  ih'- 
iayed  a^^ain.  for  nont!  o(  the  Indians  look 
kindly  t(t  the  trip  on  to  ( "hipeu  yan,  iIk! 
iK'.xt  post.  Thos((  that  had  pronii.sed  hack- 
ed out,  and  linally  Spencer  turiu'd  ovtM* 
to  nn'  th(!  train  whicdi  had  hrouyiit  the 
packet  from  ('hi|)e\vyan  to  ^h'Murray. 
There  were  four  e()«)d  stron"'  iU><is\  Fran- 
(;ois. French  ha!f-hreed,omi  of  the  hest  doy- 
driversand  rumwrs  in  tin;  land  ;  and  "( )ld" 
Jacoh,  a  Soto  Indian,  to  hreak  trail,  who 
as  younj;'  .Jacoh  was  famous  for  stren<;lli 
and  speed,  and  who  ev<'n  now  could  heat 
all  hut  i\u'  very  hest  on  snow-shoes. 
iJoth  could  talk  and  understand  enou<>li 


I'lntrlish  to  nnd\e  some  sort  of  conversation 
po.s.>d)|e,  and  Itotli  kneu  I  he  road,  so  that 
the  clouds  revealed  only  tln'ir  silver  lin- 
in;,' as  we  started  out  from  McMurray.  I 
was  not  sei'kin)4  liduhic,  hut  it  came  just 
the  satne.  1  had  never  worn  inoccasinH 
until  I  left  La  ISiclie.  I  had  ne\ci-  used 
the  wch  snou  shoe  until  I  hfl  .Me.M  iirray, 
and  therefore  the  second  day  out  my  feet 
were  so  hiisli'li'd  and  Ia<'erated  hy  tl 
lacin;.;'s  that  hlood  dyed  my  dntVel.  a: 
walking' was  a^rony.  Hitherto  I  had  her 
counting  my  pro^rress  hy  days;  m)w  I 
reckoned  hy  tin;  II res,  of  which  we  made 
three  daily,  when  w(>  drank  tea  and  my 
misery  enjoyed  a  hrief  i-cspite.  It  was 
cold,  hitterly  cold,  and  the  wind  swept  u|> 
the  Alhahasca  Uiver,  down  which  wt-trav- 
(dled,  apparently  <'oinin;i-  directly  from  the 
north  pole.  liut  neither  wind  nor  pain- 
ful travelline-  nor  hun^fer,  which  we  c,\ 
perieiH'ed  th(!  last  two  days,  delayed  us, 
ami  when  we  linally  reacdied  the  shores  of 
Lake  Athahasca,  and  viewed  the  liiulson 
Hay  Company's  forllike  post  four  mile.s 
away,  it  was  like  a  si^^ht  of  the  pi'oin- 
isetl  land.  I  had  heen  twenty  days  on 
the  road,  and  come  ahout  HSU  miles  from 
the  railroa<l.so  that,  what  with  lacerated 
feet,  twisted  aid<le,  and  fati;;in.',  1  was 
pretty  widl  used  up  when  I  passed  through 
the  gateway  of  Fort  Chipewyun. 


I  i  "•  » 


i  i 


V      * 


-v...!*-'*' 


r" 


:v»  .  -.,.*.^iWS?Li?.. 


FOHT   CIIII'KWVAN. 


3^^ 


IT©  Thi 


£aspj\i  W.  MsiiaTsaiY 


III.— A    WOOD-RISOX    HUNT. 


m 

o 


C1HIPEWYAX  lias  many  claims  to  dis- 
J  liiR'tioii.  Built  substaiilialiy  upon 
one  of  the  numerous  rocky  ])oiiits  wliicji 
break  the  one  InmclrcHl  and  lifty  miles  of 
Athabasca  Lake's  north  shore  line,  it  is 
the  most  picturesquely  situated  and  most 
))opixlous  oasis  in  this  silent  white  coun- 
try. It  is  headquarters  of  one  of  the 
foui'  districts  into  which  tliis  vast  fur- 
hearinjif  land  of  one  million  sqnai-e  miles 
is  divided  by  the  Hudson  Bay  Coni])any; 
the  chief  forwarding'  ])()int  for  tin;  mer- 
chandise which  tile  company  sends  in  for 
trade,  and  the  fur  the  Indians  send  out 
as  pay;  a  general  distributiiiii'  post-ollice 
of  the  four  yearly  mails  which  reach  this 
land,  where  man  is  but  a  mere  track  upon 
the  snow,  and  not  above  one  hundred  of 
the  roughly  upproximated  ten  thousand 
read  English  writing.  It  is  the  most  im- 
portant North-land  mission  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  Oblates  Fathers,  and  it  is  i)rac- 
tically  the  iiortli(M'ii  boundary  of  the 
Cree  and  the  southern  bouiulary  of  tlH> 
Montagnaise  Indian  family,  which  in  its 
various  branches  spreads  toward  the  Arc- 
tic Ocean. 

I  am  sure  Dr.  W.  M.  Mackay,  the  Hud- 
son Bay  Company  olHcer  in  charge,  and 
liis  right  and  left  bowers,  "Ned"'  Cauisell 
and  "Sam"  Emerson,  would  consider 
that  I  had  slighted  Chipewyaii  if  I  failed 
to  record  the  further  eminence  it  enjoys 
in  having  two  streets.  I  was  never  able, 
unaided,  to  discover  more  than  the  oik; 
whicli  separates  the  |)ost"s  dozen  log  cai)- 
ins  from  the  lake. l)Ul  that  may  have  been 
due  to  the  dellection  of  my  compass  nee- 
dle.    At  all  events,  after  McMiirray,  with 

Vol.  XCII.-No.  51'.).- 38 


its  four  cabins,  it  seemed  metropolitan, 
though  of  its  "census"  of  four  hundred 
men,  women,  and  children  only  a  small 
])ercentage  is  in  actual  residence.  This 
is  equally  true  of  all  the  i)osts.  The  real 
dwellers  within  the  settlements  are  a 
comparative  handful,  comprising  chielly 
the  mission  people,  the  company  servants, 
and  a  few  "freemen."  as  those  who  have 
S(M'ved  their  five  years"  enlistment  and 
set  up  a  little  indei)eiideiicy  of  lal)oi-  are 
called.  Those  that  live  within  the  com- 
l)any's  gates  are  chietly  half-breeds.  In 
sunnner  they  catch  and  dry  the  fish 
which  forms  tin;  chief  article  of  food  for 
men  and  dogs,  or  work  on  the  company 
ilat-boats:  and  in  winter  they  spend  the 
short  days  in  "  tripping."'  and  the  long 
nights  in  smoking  and  talking  about 
their  dogs,  or  in  dancing  and  sleeping. 
They  have  no  other  diversions;  no  in- 
dooi"  games,  no  out-door  sports.  Dancing 
ar.d  sleei)ing  are  the  beginning  and  end- 
ing of  their  recreation,  and  I  would  not 
venture  an  opinion  as  to  the  more  popu- 
lar; cei'tainly  they  have  an  alniormal  ca- 
])a('ity  for  either. 

This  applies  to  the  men.  Life  is  a 
more  .serious  atl'air  for  the  women.  They 
too  sleep  and  dance  and  smoke,  but  their 
sleeping  conies  as  a  wcUeai-ned  res})ite 
after  the  day"s  toil  ;  their  dancing  has 
the  outward  ai)pearance  of  a  sacrifice,  to 
which  they  an^  silently  resigned,  and 
smoking  is  an  accompaniment  to  woi'k 
rather  than  a  diversion  in  itself.  The 
woman  is  the  country  drudge.  Her  work 
is  never  linislied.  She  clio[)s  the  lire- 
wood,  dries  the  lish  and  meat,  snares  rab- 


360 


HARPER'S    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


bits,  ;iiul  ciii'i'ics  liur  (;;itch  into  tlie  post 
on  lier  buck;  scr;ip(3.s  and  tans  the  moose 
and  caribou  liidcs,  from  tlie  latter  of 
which  slie  afterwards  malces  "  babiche  " 
by  cullin<j  it  into  strings  an  eiyhtli  of  an 
inch  wide;  hices  the  snow-slioes,  malces 
and  embroiders  witii  beads  the  mittens, 
moccasins,  and  lef,''f,''inj;s;  yields  the  lion's 
share  of  tiie  scanty  larder  to  her  husband 
wlien  he  is  at  home  luxuriating-  in  smoke 
and  sleep,  and,  when  he  is  away,  gives 
her  children  her  tiny  pret  (allowance) 
of  lisli  and  goes  hungry  without  a  mur- 
mur. 

This  is  the  woman  of  the  post.  She  of 
the  woods,  the  full-blooded  .squaw,  and 
tliere  are  few  Indians  that  ever  take  up  a 
l)ermanent  abode  in  the  settlement,  does 
all  this  and  more.  In  addition  to  cliop- 
ping  the  lirewood,  she  seeks  and  hauls 
it;  not  only  dries,  but  catches  the  fish; 
goes  after  and  quarters  and  bi'ings  in 
the  game  her  master  has  killed;  breaks 
camp,  and  i)ilclies  it  again  where  the  hus- 
band, who  has  gone  on  ahead  with  no 
load  but  his  gun  and  no  thought  except 
for  the  hunt,  and  whose  trail  she  has  fol- 
lowed, indicates  by  sticking  up  brush  in 
tlu;  snow.  When  there  is  plenty  she 
makes  her  meal  on  that  which  her  lord 
leaves,and  when  tliere  is  little  .she  starves, 
along  witli  her  children  and  the  dogs. 

The  Indian  is  the  sj'bariteof  the  N(U'th- 
land.  and  the  only  genuine  socialist  on 
earth.  He  holds  all  tlie  po.ssessions  of 
his  country  equally  with  his  tribe,  feasts 
and  fasts  and  sorrows  and  rejoices  in 
common,  and  roams  where  his  legs  carry 
and  there  is  game  for  his  gun.  Wiien 
there  is  abundance  he  smokes  his  pipe  in 
hai)py  indolence,  and  his  wife  does  the 
work;  when  there  is  no  meat  for  the 
kettle  he  .shoulders  his  gun  and  goes  out 
into  the  woods,  leaving  care  and  hunger 
at  home  with  the  squaw.  But  he  by  no 
means  invarii'l)ly  escai)es  hunger.  It  is 
ever  a  feast  or  a  famine  with  him,  and  it 
might  always  be  a  feast  were  he  not  so 
improvident  and  lazy.  Clothing  and  food 
are  at  his  very  door.  In  the  rivers  and 
lakes  there  is  lish  in  great  quantity  and 
variety;  along  theii-  banks,  lisher.  otter, 
mink,  beaver,  and  musk  rat:  and  in  the 
forests,  moo.se,  caribou,  bear,  lynx,  fox, 
wolf,  wolverene,  marten,  ermin(\  an<l 
ral)l)its  —  to  say  nothing  of  the  early 
spring  and  autumn  migrations  of  ducks 
and  gi'ese,  the  ])acics  of  ptarmigan,  which 
ill  their  changing  plumage  of  brown  and 


white  are  to  be  seen  summer  and  winter, 
and  the  .several  other  species  of  the 
grouse  family  that  may  be  found  the 
greater  part  of  the  year.  There  is  no 
occasion  for  an  Indian  to  starve  in  this 
country,  if  he  keeps  out  of  the  Barren 
Grounds;  but  hunting  demands  skill,  of 
which  he  has  less  than  any  other  red  man 
I  ever  knew,  and  a  never  failing  cache 
presupposes  foresight,  of  which  he  has 
none  —  so  that,  in  ti'uth,  he  fasts  more 
often  than  he  feasts. 

The  dogs  share  eqiuilly  the  good  luck 
or  misfortune  of  their  masters.  The  Ind- 
ian is  moi'e  i-egardful  of  his  dogs  than  of 
his  women,  for  dog-s  are  less  numerous 
than  squaws,  and  necessary  to  his  sup- 
port. The  driver  lashes  them  merciless- 
ly with  his  whip  and  beats  them  bi'U- 
tally  with  clubs,  but  lie  never  fails  to 
include  their  rations  in  his  sledge-load, 
nor  to  divide  his  last  lish  for  their  bene- 
lit.  It  is  not  goodness  of  heart  that  stirs 
his  consideration,  out  fear  for  his  own 
safety  and  the  loss  of  an  indispensable 
draught  animal.  Without  his  dogs  he 
would  be  compelled  to  pack  on  his  back 
what  he  now  packs  in  tlie  sledge,  to  drag 
his  game  out  of  tlie  woods,  and  carry  his 
furs  to  the  post,  while  the  loss  of  dogs 
en  route  might  mean  for  him  delay,  star- 
vation— po.ssibly  death. 

In  the  great  civilized  world  the  dog 
has  been  called  man's  best  friend  ;  in  this 
limitless  stretch  of  snow  and  desolation 
and  need  he  may  be  declared  man's  only 
friend ;  in  the  grcuid  paijs  he  has 
earned  the  trust  witlu)ut  the  test;  here 
in  this  lone  land  he  is  being  continuous- 
ly' tried,  and  never  found  wanting.  He 
has  no  pedigree,  and  he  may  be  of  any 
color,  but  his  usual  ai)))earance  is  that 
of  a  fairly  long  headed,  sharp  nosed  mon- 
grel, well  tucked  up  behind,  with  big  feet, 
and  a  coat  of  hair  equal  to  that  of  a  cub. 
To  call  these  dogs  "huskies"  is  an  eri'or 
common  to  nearly  every  one  who  has  had 
anything  to  say  on  the  subject.  The 
word  "husky"  is  North -laud  slang  for 
Eskimo,  and  is  generally  applied  to  that 
arctic  denizen  himscdf,  as  well  as  to  every- 
thing belonging  to  him.  Their  dogs 
are  ])roperly  called  hu.skics,  and  thus  it 
has  come  about  that  all  dogs  used  to  drag 
a  sledge  are  ignorantly  so  called.  The 
genuine  husky  is  a  distinct  species,  lar- 
ger, more  pouerful,  and  faster,  and  is  not 
easily  to  be  had.  sinc»»  the  Eskimos,  like 
the  Indians,  are  somewiiat  indilt'erent  to 


ON   SNOW-SHOES   TO   THE   BARREN   GROUNDS. 


361 


their  breeding',  juid  good  dogs  are  liiglily 
l)rizt'd.  Moreover,  there  is  no  coinniuni- 
catioii  between  the  EsUiinos  and  llie  more 
southern  Indians,  so  tliat  a  genuine  hus- 
ky is  a  mm  acis  below  tlie  arc-tie  coast. 
The  Indians  say  their  dogs  are  descend- 
ed from  tlie  wolf,  and  certainly  appear- 
ances do  not  belie  tiie  a,ssertion.      Names 


Roman  Catholic  mission's  train  at  the 
same  post;  and  that  of  Beniali,  the  Indian 
leader  with  whom  I  went  into  th<'  Barren 
Grounds.  Spencer  and  McKinlev  proba- 
bly liavt!  the  two  best  trains  in  Uie  coun- 
try, which  they  have  bred  from  sepa- 
rate bitches  that  had  some  Newfoundland 
blood  in  them,  and  were  the  onlv  do<js  I 


are  more  plentiful  than  dogs,  and  the  saw  tliat  would  come  to  harness  on  call, 
mostconunonly  heard 
are  Castor. Oabry.Sol- 
dat.  Ctosar,  Cabrel, 
Cotl'ee,  Milord,  the 
populai"  ones  being 
always  tlio.se  of  two 
syllal)les,  with  an  R 
tiuit  may  be  rolled 
out  to  the  whip's  ac- 
companiment. Near- 
ly every  post  lias  a 
Bull  and  a  Whiskey 
— only  the  name  of 
that  civilized  stimu- 
lant can  be  found  in 
all  this  land,  though 
occasional  liilarity  is 
develojjed  by  .sonu^ 
poor  stuflf  made  from 
sugar,  and  called  beer. 
Whiskey  was  invari- 
ably the  most  forlorn- 
looking  dog  in  the 
pack,  while  the  laziest 
brutes  I  encountered 
were  Bulls. 

One  would  suppose 
thai  in  a  country  lit- 
erally dependent  on 
doys  for  winter  trans- 
portation, quantity 
and  at  least  some  de- 
gree of  quality  would 
be  kept  up.  And  yet 
the  facts  are  directly 
the  reverse.  Not  onlv 


WAK-KO.NNKT. 


Beyond  the  "  fore- 
goer,"  upon  whom  the 
iiM^anings  of  ma-a-r- 
r-che  (start),  e-  u-u 
(right),  ./«  (left),  and 
(choa  are  impressed 
b^-  a  club,  and  the 
steer-dog — as  the  one 
at,  say,  the  wheel,  to 
make  it  comprehensi- 
ble, is  called — there 
is  no  training.  The 
foregoer  follows  the 
trail  and  .sets  the  pace. 
Tlie  steer-dog  keeps 
tlie  sledge  upon  a 
slanting  track,  and 
guides  it  through 
trees  and  rocks.  lie 
must  be  strong,  and 
is  the  most  im[)()r- 
taiit  of  the  four  in 
rough  country.  As 
for  competent  driv- 
ers, they  are  even 
scarcer  than  good 
dogs,  but  the  few  are 
exceedingly  skilful; 
and  of  these.  Spencer, 
McKinley,  Gaudet, 
Fi'aiKj'ois  and  his  l)ro- 
ther  William  at  Chip- 
ewyan,  Michael,  the 
interpreter  at  Reso- 
lution, and  the  Cath 
olic  "brother,''  whose 


is  quality  wanting,  but  the  quantity  is  name  I  never  knew,  at  Resolution,  are 
limited.  The  Hudson  Bay  Company,  easily  the  best.  The  diU'eience  between 
strangely  enough,  seems  to  have  made  a  good  and  a  bad  driver  is  that  the  former 
no  ert'ort  to  improve  or  even  establi.sh  a  knows  liow  and  wlien  to  handle  his 
breed,  and  at  tluMr  more  important  posts  sledge  to  ease  the  dogs,  keeps  them  all 
rarely  maintain  more  than  one  train,  up  to  their  work,  and  does  not  "force" 
and  never  more  than  two.  Throughout  (urge)  them  at  imi)roper  times.  The 
the  length  of  my  trip  I  saw  just  seven  bad  driver  spends  his  enei'gy  in  throw- 
trains  of  dogs  that  could  be  called  lirst  ing  clubs  at  the  foregoer  and  lashing 
class — Spencei''s  at  McMurray;  two  be-  the  steer  dog,  chiefly  becau.se  the  latter 
longing  to  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  at  is  witiiin  easy  reach.  He  permits  the 
Chipewyan;  McKinley's.tiie  Hudson  Bay  sledge  to  slide  hither  and  thither,  to  the 
Company  othcer  at  Fort  Smith  ;  Gaudet's.  exceeding  wear  and  tear  of  the  steer- 
the  company's  oHicer  at  Resolution ;    the  dog.      Now  and  then  he  stops  the  train 


302 


HARPERS    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


:iii(l  lashes  tlio  (loft's  all  i-oiiiid.  and  at  all 
times  lie  is  forcing  tlieiii.  Only  trains 
made  up  nf  exce})ti(>nal  dof^s  last  more 
than  a  eouple  of  seasons,  and  once  their 
nscfulncss  is  ))assed  the  ])oor  hriites  are 
lui'iicd  loos(>  to  seek  a  living'  where  those 
tor  whom  food  is  provided  are  more  fre- 
(lueiitly  hiingvy  than  satisfied.  Their 
vayran(!y  is  usually  short-lived  —  death 
by  starvation  or  freezin*,''  comes  speedily 
to  their  relief. 

The  farther  north,  tiie  better  the  dogs 
and  nior(>  <i'aiuly  their  harness  and  trap- 
ping's. Tln'y  are  always  savaye  and  sus- 
l)i('ious  and  noisy.  l)ut  to  the  south,  tow- 
ards La  Biche.  tiicv  are  miserable  in  body 


HA.ND  WAKMEKS    OK    THK    \OHTH. 


as  well,  and  are  hitched  (o  the  sledge 
with  hanuvss  jjurely  Indian,  and  utterly 
devoid  of  adornment.  Strangely  enough, 
the  Indian,  who  likes  to  decorate  bis  own 
jjersoii,  as  a  rule  utterly  ignores  that  of 
his  dog,  though  he  may  paint  the  moo.se- 
skin  which  covers  the  head  of  his  sledge, 
or  hang  tufts  of  hair  or  yam  upon  it.  as 
he  does  soinrt  imes  on  the  toes  of  his  snow- 
shoes.  All  harness  is  made  of  moose- 
skin,  hut  at  Chipewyan  and  north  it  is 
fashioned  better,  and   there  are,  besides. 


loin-cloths,  calh'd  topifi,  cov(>red  with 
bells  and  embroidery,  and  vivid  jiompons 
"tuck  into  the  collars,  and  lloating  rib- 
bons of  many  contrasting  coloi-s.  Add  to 
this  a  driver  in  l>eaded  moccasins,  leggings, 
and  mittens,  with  a  L'Assitiiipfio)i  sash 
about  his  waist,  a  caribou-skin  capote  on 
his  back,  and  a  fancifully  ornamented 
and  ljeta.s.selled  "Tommy  Atkins"  caj)  on 
his  bead,  and  the  North-land  expi'ess  is 
complete  and  at  its  best.  Indeed,  thei'e  is 
no  combination  more  sjjrightly  than  a  dog 
brigade,  with  its  brilliant  and  many-lined 
tapia,  its  nodding  i)ompoiis  ;ind  streaming 
ribbons,  and  its  iiicturesciuely  costumed 
driver.  There  is  no  sensation  more  ex- 
hilarating than  running  with  the  dogs  on 
snow-.shoes  and  a  good  track,  to  the  jing- 
ling of  the  bells — when  stoi'in  obscures  the 
poinjjons, and  wind  drowns  the, jingle. and 
there  is  nothing  in  the  sledge  to  eat,  the 
sen.sation  is  not  so  enlivening. 

These  dogs  are  certainly  notable  trav- 
ellers, from  the  best  fed  down  to  the  pu- 
niest of  tiie  Indian  species,  which  are 
contemptuously  called  giddes  by  the 
half  -  bi'eeds,  and  are  not  a  great  deal 
lai'ger  than  a  big  fox.  Tliev  draw  a  hea- 
vier  load,  at  a  faster  pace,  on  less  food, 
and  for  a  greater  length  of  time  tha.i  one 
would  believe  without  .seeing.  The  usual 
immber  toa  train  is  four,  and  tandem  is  the 
mode  of  bitching  them  to  the  sledge,  which 
is  about  seven  feel  long  by  fourteen  inches 
wide,  and  made  of  either  two  or  three 
birch  slats  held  together  by  cross-bars,  and 
turned  over  at  the  head  like  a  toboggan. 
These  four  dogs  will  haul  four  huiidred 
pouiuls  on  a  fair  track  fi-om  twenty-five 
to  thirty-live  miles  a  day.  In  the  woods 
where  the  snow  is  deep  and  the  trail  nnist 
be  broken  the  day's  trip  will  be  lifteen  to 
twenty  miles.  On  a  good  lake  or  river 
track,  drawing  a  curiole  (a  passenger 
sledge),  they  will  go  forty  to  fifty  miles  a 
day,  and  keep  it  up  .several  days,  and  this 
on  two  white-fish  weighing  about  three 
pounds  apiece,  and  given  to  each  dog  at 
night.  I  saw  Gaudet's  train  bring  into 
Resolution  live  hundred  pounds  of  cari- 
bou meat,  which  remained  after  supi)ly- 
ing  two  men  and  foui'  dogs  during  a  four- 
day  tri[)  on  Great  Slave  Lake.  Some 
great  stories  are  told  of  the  loads  drawn 
by  the  Mackenzie  Rivei-  dogs,  whose  tails 
are  docked  short,  to  give  a  more  work- 
manlike appearance,  and  keej)  the  meek 
and  lowly  from  advertising  tlieir  shrink- 
ing nature  and  spoiling  the  appearance 


ox   SNOW-SHOES   TO   THE   BARREN    GRorXDS. 


363 


of  the  train  l)y  stickinji-  I  lie  on'eiidiiirr 
tail  ijt'twci'ii  liicir  leys.  Il  is  said  lliat 
cijilit  ()!•  iiiiic  limulrcd,  and  even  a  thou- 
sand, pounds  are  coniinonly  Iiauicd  in 
the  ^lackenzie  district  In-  four  d()<;s. 
J>ut  1  am  inclined  to  class  tliei'ie  stories 
with  those  I  heard  concern iiij,''  the  won- 
derful streuffth  of  the  old  time  packers. 
When  1  was  ji'oinjj;'  in  on  snow  slmes 
marvellous  tales  were  related  for  my 
henetit  of  men  who  had  cai-ried  live 
and  six  hundred  pounds,  and  of  one 
particuhu-  yiant  who  had  loaded  him- 
self with  seven  hundred  pounds,  and 
had  written  his  iiann^  on  the  wall  with 
three  liundnHl  pounds'  weiirlit  tied  to 
his  wrist.  When  I  was  coming'  out  on 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company's  flat-hoat  1 
discovered  no  Indian  or  half-hreed  who 
j)acke(l  more  than  two  hu'  Ired  pounds 
on  his  back,  while  the  name  -  writing 
Hercules  had  left  no  successoi".  Snow- 
shoe  running,  packing,  and  canoeing 
(ire  the  three  most  resourceful  fields 
of  the  Indian  story-teller;  and  of  the 
three,  running  ufl'ords  him  greatest 
scope  for  his  jjeculiar  imagination. 

The  Indian  of  the  North- land  is  nei- 
ther an  ing'enious  nor  a  picturesque  Mun- 
chausen. He  is  just  a  plain  liar,  who 
seems  not  even  to  coiiiit  on  the  credulity 
of  his  hearer  for  acceptance  of  his  tales. 
He  lies  by  choice  rather  than  from  ne- 
cessity, and  should  the  necessity  occur  he 
makes  a  virtue  of  his  lying.  Nor  is  he 
abaslied  if  discovered.  Really  I  believe  he 
views  every  i)lain  statement  as  a  lost  op- 
portunity. Every  camp  fire,  every  meet- 
ing at  the  post,  invariably  becomes  an  ex- 
cuse for  the  di.scussion  of  dogs  and  the 
recital  of  astonishing  feats  of  snow-shoe 
running.  The  fact  that  no  one  of  ihe  as- 
semblage ever  did  or  ever  could  perform 
the  extraordinary  feats  recounted  does 
not  detract  u  particle  from  the  quality  of 
the  story  or  its  enjoyment  by  the  listen- 
ers. It's  a  case  of  the  man  with  the  last 
story  having  the  best  of  it.  Still,  with 
all  his  vaingloi'ious  talk,  tlie  Indian  is 
an  unhesitating'  admirer  of  real  prowess, 
and  good  runners  are  indeed  plentiful  in 
this  country,  where  shanks'  mare  is  the 
(july  mount. 

To  be  a  good  dog-driver  and  to  run 
forty  miles  a  day  is  to  be  a  great  man 
in  this  land  of  vast  distances.  There 
are  instances  where  men  have  gone  far- 
ther, but  in  most  cases  the  going  has 
been  exceptional,  or  the  "day"'  stretched 


THK    NORTH  LAND    SHOKMAKEB. 


far  into  the  night.  In  my  etFort  to  ob- 
tain authenticated  information  on.  big' 
runs  I  found  the  '"  day  ""  most  elastic,  ex- 
tending, in  fact,  the  full  twenty -four 
houi's,  from  midnight  to  midnight,  and 
the  "running"'  of  the  m;in  to  include 
riding'  on  the  sledge  now  and  then  when 
the  going  was  extra  good.  The  liest  day 
of  actual  running'  I  was  al>le  to  corrobo- 
rate was  sixty  miles,  done  between  (I  .v.M. 
and  ii.llO  P.M.  by  Alexander  J.iiiklelter.  an 
English-Cree  half-breed  now  at  C'hipe- 
wyan,  who  made  two  fires  en  route. 
Another  halfbi'eed  covered  eighty  miles 
between  midnight  and  nine  o'clock  of 
the  next  night,  and  an  Indian  went  sev- 
enty miles  between  ;?  A.M.  and  >  P.M.,  l)ut 
these  are  notable  cliielly  because  of  the 
dogs'  endui'ance,  for  both  men  rode  nu)st 
of  the  distance. and  neither  approaches  the 
performance  of  Linkletler,  who  I'an  every 
foot  of  the  way. 

The  condition  of  the  going  nuikes  so 
great  a  difference  in  travelling  that  thirty 
miles  on  one  occasion  might  easily  be  a 
more  notable  perfornunice  than  fifty  miles 
on  another.  Taking  the  avera'  "  condi- 
tions of  tripping,  from  twenty-live  to  thir- 
ty miles  is  considei'ed  a  fair  day,  thirty- 
live  miles  a  goo-'  day,  and  forty  a  big  day's 
work.  The  roi/ayeiir  considers  he  is  ti'iiv- 
elling  well  if  he  makes  two  fires  during 


3(34 


HARPERS  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


SQUAW    LEOGIXCS. 


the  day,  at  which 
lie  drinks  tea.  and 
sleeps  thirty  or 
tiiirty  -  five  miles 
nearer  his  destina- 
tion every  ni;ifht. 
SpriiifT  is  popular- 
ly s])()l<eii  of  as  the 
time  when  *'  the 
days  are  long  and 
the  dogs  go  well," 
and  you  travel 
longer  and  farther 
eacli  day,  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact  the 
season  has  little  to 
do  witli  the  length 
of  time  spent  on 
the  road  if  you 
are  making  a  long 
journey  and  time 
is  an  object.  Indeed,  to  me  the  days  al- 
ways seemed  long  enough,  and  tlie  dogs 
to  go  well  enougii.  In  winter  you  start 
at  three,  make  your  first  '^-e  at  seven, 
start  again  at  eight,  whic  is  just  about 
daybreak,  have  a  second  fire  at  eleven, 
and  camp  at  three,  which  gives  about 
an  hour  before  dark  to  cut  a  supply  of 
lirewood.  In  spring  it  is  daylight  long 
before  you  start  at  six,  and  iong  after 
you  camp  at  eight;  in  fact,  in  May  I 
wrote  in  my  note  book  frequently  at  ten, 
and  it  was  not  really  dark  at  midnight. 
In  midsummer  there  is  no  niglit,  and  in 
midwinter  the  short  days  are  of  slight 
significance  to  the  tripper,  because  the 
nujon  equalizes  matters  by  shining  full 
throughout  the  ])eriod  in  which  the  sun 
sliines  least. 

I  have  said  that  Chipewyan  is  the  i)rac- 
tical  dividing -point  between  two  great 
Indian  families,  but  the  traveller  who  did 
not  hear  their  speech,  which  is  altogether 
dissimilar  in  intonation  and  word,  would 
iu)t  appreciate  it.  There  is  no  very  no- 
ticeable outwai'd  distinction  between  the 
Cree  and  th(>  Chii)ewyan  Indian,  except 
ix^ssibly  the  face  of  the  laltei"  is  broader. 
Otherwise  they  have  about  the  same  phys- 
ical characteristics  —  high  cheek-bones, 
large  mouth,  African  nose,  dirty  yellow- 
ish-oclii'e  complexion,  coarse  straight 
black  hail',  and  spar.se  mustache  seen  oc- 
casionally. Tli(\v  are  nevei'corpulent.and 
never  clean.  Ethically  there  is  no  choice 
between  them:  their  capacity  and  preju- 
dice for  lying  are  equal,  and  one  is  as 
untrustworthy  as  the  other.     Generally 


speaking,  neither  the  men  nor  the  women 
are  good  to  look  upon  ;  but  of  course  there 
are  exceptions  to  (^very  rule,  and  I  think 
the  exceptions  in  this  case  are  more  often 
Cree.  The  half  breeds  are  generally  muvo. 
agreeable  to  the  eye;  some  of  the  women 
are  even  good-looking:  and  one  of  them, 
a  (laughter  of  Michael  ^Manderville,  the 
interpreter  at  Greiit  Slave  Lake,  has  ex- 
cellent feiUures.  a  sweet  expression,  and 
is  quite  the  belle  of  the  Jiortli  country, 
though  the  wives  of  S|)encer  and  of  Chip- 
ewyan FraiH;ois  press  her  very  closely  for 
the  honor. 

As  to  philological  difVerences,  they  are 
too  intricate  to  understand  without  long 
study,  and  too  many  for  exploitation 
here.  It  will  answer  our  purpose  to  know 
that  the  Cree  nation  is  one  of  the  largest 
of  the  Lenni-Lennappe  family,  itself  the 
most  widely  distributed  of  the  three  great 
divisions— Floridean,  Iroquois,  and  Ijenni- 
Lennappe.  The  Cree  is  i-eally  a  plains 
Indian,  and  as  such  superior  to  the  few 
of  the  family  in  the  North-land  who  are 
called  Wood  Cree.  The  Tene.  or  Mon- 
tagnaise,  is  the  great  nation  wlii'-h 
spreads  between  the  Rocky  Mountains 
and  Hudson  Bay,  and  extends  in  its  va- 
rious tribes  and  dialects  down  to  the 
arctic.  Of  these  tiibes  the  chief  are 
Chipewyan,  Yellow  Knives,  Dog- Ribs, 
Slaveys,  Hare,  Caribou  -  Eaters,  whose 
language  has  mere  dialectic  differences. 
Then  there  are  the  Loiicheux,  on  the  ^lac- 
kenzie  River,  which  have  a  more  distinct 
tongue,  sharper  features,  almoiid-sluiiied 
eyes,  and  are  the  most  intelligent  and 
thrifty  Indians  in  the  country;  and  the 
Eskimo,  that  never  hunt  more  than  a 
hundred  miles  south  of  the  arctic  coast, 
iiave  their  own  variation  of  the  Eskimo 


PAPPOO.SE    IN    ITS    MOSS    HAQ. 


ON   SNOW-SHOES   TO   THE   BARREN   GROUNDS. 


spooch,  and.  notably  eiioiipli.  avorafjo  of 
{^icatcr  stature  than  is  conmioMly  Ix- 
lievcd  of  tliis  ])('op|<'. 

Missionaries  have  now  readied  all  these 
trilx's  from  thedilVerent  lliidson  Jia y  Com 
pany    posts,  and    IImmi-   labors   have  been 
rewarded   l)y   the  ontward   aceeptanet^  of 
their  doctrines  by  a  larg'e  niunber  of  the 
Indians  that  come  into  the  jjosts  to  ti'ad<'. 
The  Fi'eneh  lialf-breeds.  and  certainly 
seventy-live  ])er  cent,  of  the  convert- 
ed Indians,  have  adopted  the  Roman 
Catliolic    faith:    the    reniaindei-    have 
Iteen    won    over    to    the    Protestants. 
The  most  tangible  evidences  of  church 
inlluence  thus  far  seen  are  in  the  very 
j^enei-al  disapj)earance  of  the  medicine- 
man and  the  suppression  of  polygamy 
and  incest.     So  far  as  I  could  learn, 
the  Indians  never  had  any  defined  wor- 
ship.     Their  relij^ion  was  and  is  on<!  of 
fear.      Thej'  are  ever  propitiating  the 
bad  spirits,  the  demons  of  their  dreams, 
and   the   imaginary  "enemy"  of  the 
woods.      I  have  seen  burned  leggings, 
worn-out  moccasins,  and  broken  snow- 
shoes  hung  up  as   peace  .sacifices   to 
clumge  bad  luck  in  hunting  or  a  head- 
wind in  tripping,  and  I  never  failed  to 
note  tlie  predominant  avarice  stronger 
than   the  superstition,  as   revealed  by 
the  worthle.ss  character  of  the  offer- 
ings.     They  lean    to  an    inferior  spe- 
cies of  "totemism,"  although  no  reli- 
gious ceremony  was  ever  attached  to 
its  acceptance.     Any  animal   or  bird 
dreamed  of  used  to  be,  and  is  yet  in  a 
minor  degree,  taken  as  the  dreamer's 
totem.      The   medicine-man  lias  gone, 
but  has  left  the  old  superstitions  and 
the  pronounced  fatalism,  which  the  mis- 
sionaries liave  not  succeeded  in  destroy- 
ing. 

They  conform  to  the  ceremonies  of  re- 
ligion, but  little  of  true  Christianity  has 
been  developed.  It  has  been  a  change  of 
method  rather  than  of  heart.  Formerly 
female  babies  wei'e  killed  on  birth;  now 
the\'  live  to  l^ecome  beasts  of  burden. 
Parents  nsed  to  be  strangled  when  they 
grew  too  old  to  seek  a  living;  now  they 
are  left  to  slowly  starve  to  death.  In  the 
old  times  men  openly  exchanged  wives 
for  a  shorter  or  longer  period ;  now  the 
number  of  virtuous  girls  is  very  small, 
and  wise  indeed  is  the  son  who  knows 
his  father  in  this  vale  of  unconvention- 
ality.  The  dead  used  to  be  swung  in 
trees  or  hung  from  four  posts,  where  the 


wind  roclced  thtMn  in  their  eternal  sleep; 
now  they  are  buried  in  shallow  graves. 
and  the  wolverc  iie  guards  them  by  day 
and  feeds  on  them  by  night. 

I'riests  liav(>  not  yet  taught  th(>  Indians 
the  golden  rule,  nor  implanted  respect  for 
virginit  \ .  Chastity  is  regarded  asa  virtue 
to  be  honored  in  the  breach  i-jitlier  than  in 
the  observance,  and  fidelity  .seems  by  lui 


THE  BELLE  OK  THE  NORTH  COUNTRY. 


means  essertial  to  the  happiness  of  wed- 
ded life. 

Theses  l)e()i)le  h.ave  not  ventured  fai- 
into  civilization.  Take  fi-om  tlie  Indian 
his  copper  kettle,  steel  knife,  and  ..'iOljore 
muzzle  -  loading  gun,  ami  give  him  his 
birch-hark  "rogan,"  moose-bone,  beaver- 
tooth,  and  flint-stone  knives  and  bow,  and 
lu'  is  just  about  where  he  was  when  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company  brought  the  trin- 
kets of  the  great  world  to  him.  Agri- 
cultural knowledg(!  is  of  no  use  to  him, 
because  his  country  is  not  suNceptii)le  of 
cultivation,  except  in  a  U'w  rare  and  iso- 
lated s])ots.  And  there  ai'(^  no  native  in- 
dustries of  any  description,  no  weaving 
of  blankets,  no  making  of  jewelry  or 
pottery,  al)solutely  nothing  beyond  some 
inditt'erent  beading  and    i)orcupine-quill 


:»!6 


ILARPKirS    NKW    MOXTrir.Y    MAGAZINK 


work,  wliicli  is  (loin-  l),v  scvcimI  dtli.  i 
Irilx's,  iiiid  l)y  iioiic  so  \v«.'ll  as  lt_v  llic  -Na- 
vajiis. 

As  for  sciitiiMciit.  they  liavci  none  lio- 
yoiul  that  toi'i)oi'ili(;  bliss  caused  liy  a  I'lill 
stoinucli.  Vcs,  tlicy  have  one  oilier  — 
fear.  Tliey  are  iiinsi,  al».je<'l  cowards.  In 
an  eailier  paper  of  tliis  sei'ies  I  spoke  of 
a  ti'ift  of  iiioeeasiiis  c;oii Veyiiij^'  indication 
of  a  tender  sentiment  :  i)nt  that  sentiment 
is  r<'lative.  Tlie  men  marry  to  have 
some  one  to  make  moccasins  foi-  them, 
and  the  women  marry  itecaiise,  poor 
tliiii},^s,  they  liav(^  little  clioice  in  tln^  mat- 
ter, and  that  litll(!  prol)al)ly  siiji'jrests  it 
is  l)(>tter  to  l)e  the  servant  of  one  man 
than  the  drndye  of  a  family,  'i'liere  are 
no  playful  displays  of  maternal  aU'ection. 
I  tliiiik  I  saw  just  one?  instance  of  the 
kind  on  my  trip;  and.  on  the  other  hand, 
I  saw  ()ne  younj;'  mothei'  take  lier  cryin<( 
ami  moss-hay  enveh)ped  hahy  out  of  the 
lodj;-e  and  stand  it  up  in  the  snow  to 
weep  itself  into  exhaustion  I  Tiiere  ai'C 
no  ji'entle  woi'ds  to  convey  the  tender  so- 
licitudes of  coiirlship,  no  terms  of  ordi- 
nary i)oIiteness:  only  in  the  Louclieu.x 
tonfjuo  can  thanks  he  expressed.  'J'he 
exposure  to  which  they  are  suhjected  in 
tlieir  wandiM'inji's. and  the  witheriiii;-  of  the 
famines  and  yluttony  of  the  feasts,  com- 
bine to  bi'cak  down  health  and  shorten 
life.  And  the  jireatest  blessing  they  en- 
joy prol)al)ly  is  chat  thoydie  comparative- 
ly younj;-.  and  yo,  wluM'ever  it  may  be,  to 
a  i)lace  which  they  make  sure  cannot  ije 
more  barren  of  comfort  or  pleasure. 

It  mu.st  not  be  supposed  that  my  re- 
searches at  Chipewyan  tauyht  me  all 
this,  oi-  that  all  I  have  said  applies  to  the 
country  immediately  about  that  post. 
But  while  I  am  liyuratively  resting  my 
ankle  under  Dr.  ]\Iackay"s  I'oof  I  have 
told  sometliinji'  of  the  i)eo))le  and  the 
country  into  which  I  am  ])usliing.  I 
r(>sted  only  one  day  at  C'liipewyan.  and 
wilh  the  exception  of  a  most  interesting 
visit  to  the  Ivoinau  Catholic  mi.ssion.  in 
cliai'ii'e  of  Bishop  (Irouai'd  (wlio  is  ])ursu- 
inj,"-  the  only  practical  course  of  Indian 
civilization  by  l)ej^'inniii<;'  with  tli(>  chil- 
dren). I  spiMit  my  time  jictting  my  feet 
and  ankle  in  condition  for  the  onward 
journey,  and  in  talkinj^'  with  (he  docloi', 
who  isone  of  the  real  and  prominent  "old- 
timers."  Two  others  are  .).  S.  Canisell. 
the  Hud.son  Bay  Company  oilicer  at  Fort 
Simpson,  on  the  Mackenzi«>.  one  of  the 
most  popular  factors   and    hardiest  voy- 


-.-//.)/rs'  ill  the  country,  and  ( '.  !'.  (laudet. 
in  chaij^e  of  K<irl  Oood  J  lope,  on  tie 
same  rivir. 

Xothini;'  commanded  my  earnest  atten- 
tion moi'c  completely  than  this  mission 
of  the  (>blates  Fathers,  wilh  its  i)ishop, 
three  i)rothers.  six  nuns,  forty  school- 
cliildreii,  and  a  saw  niill.  Here,  hundi-eds 
of  miles  from  skilled  labor,  they  have 
whipped  out  the  planks  for  tlieii-  (diui'ch. 
invented  a  written  laniiuai:*'.  soniew  hat 
aflei  the  Kiiyplian  in  character,  taujiht  it 
with  slijiht  modilicalions  to  bolh  Clii])e- 
wyan  and  Vvi'v.  pi'inted  and  hound  the 
Test:! men ts  and  the  jiible  for  distribution, 
and  yonc^  out  into  tiu'  woods  to  hunt 
tlu'ir  meat,  and  to  sull'ei'  from  cold,  i)(r- 
liaps  to  starve,  alonj;'  with  the  Indians  to 
u  bom  they  would  preach  theWord  of  (Jod, 
]  caie  not  whether  one"s  form  of  belief  be 
for  or  aiiainst  the  doctrine  i)reached  by 
these  men.  one  must  be  petty  indeed  wlio 
does  not  respect  these  woi'kei's,  who.  Kast 
and  West.  North  and  South,  have  <:()ne 
far  in  advance  of  the  pioneer,  far  beyond 
the  plaudits  of  civilixiitioii.  to  carry  their 
faith  into  the  vei'y  heart  of  the  wildei'iiess. 

Of  Chipewyan'  itself  there  is  little  to 
.say,  other  than  it  was  from  this  jioint, 
then  a  jiost  of  the  Northwest  Company, 
that  Sii' Alexander  Macken/.ii!  in  iTS'.llook 
his  departure  for  his  voyaji'c  of  discovery  ; 
and  here.  too.  Sir  .lolin  Franklin  spent 
some  timt!  previous  to  embarkin<i'  on  the 
Irij)  which  I'esiilted  in  the  starvation  of 
.sevei-al  of  his  i)ai'ty.  and  eventually  in  his 
own  death. 

I  was  <;iven  the  same  assurances  here 
that  I  had  received  all  alonj?  my  trip,  of 
not  beiny  able  to  y'et  into  the  Ijari'en 
Grounds  and  out  aizain  in  winter,  but  Di". 
Mackay  was  uood  enouii'h  to  yield  to  my 
determination  to  make  the  attempt,  and 
to  aid  me  by  advice,  and.  what  was  more 
to  the  ))oint.  to  place  two  of  the  ])ost's 
best  trains  of  (1ol;s  at  my  disposal.  One 
of  these  was  foi'the  luy'<i"a<i;e.  and  the  oth- 
ei'  to  carry  nH>  one  day  on  my  journey, 
and  then  turn  back,  in  order  that  my  an- 
kle, still  v(M'y  sensitive,  should  have  an- 
other day"s  I'est.  AVe  left  Clii|)ewyan 
on  .l.-inuary  24ih,  in  greater  style  than  I 
all'ected  at  any  subseciuent  time,  wilh 
[Maurice.  on(>  of  the  celebrated  Beaulieu 
family,  I'unn in;,'' before  thedoys,  and  Rod- 
erick Fleet  and  William  I'ini.  Enj^'lisli 
.Mild  French  half-breeds  respectively,  do- 
iiiii' the  (Iri  villi:'.  1  cannot  declare  my  lirst 
experience  iji  a  cariole  to  have  been  one 


o 
> 


y. 

n- 
11- 
m 
I 
ith 
ou 
)d- 
ish 
lo- 
rst 
)iie 


w 


> 


868 


HAKI'KkS    NKW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINK. 


of  iiMiillovcd  plcusiirc.  it  saved  iiiv  aiiklf, 
nnd  for  tliiil  I  was  of  coiirso  oratc'fiil ,  but 
despite  all  the  furs  it  is  iiiiserahly  eold 
tiMveiliiii;-.  and.  wlial  is  e(jiiaily  as  tvy- 
jiijf,  the  eai'iole  k(!ei)s  iipseltiiit^',  unless 
you  are  on  a  well-worn  lake  or  river 
track,  an  I  yon.  linndled  up  in  furs,  ari^ 
drjioocd  alony  face  downwards,  like  a 
bay  of  meal,  until  the  driver  sets  you  n|) 
aijfain.  William  w;is  very  attentive,  but 
not  all  his  care  made  me  reyret  when  the 
llrst  day  was  over  and  my  riding'  at  an 
ond. 

We  camped  that  ni<;-lit  at  tlio  junction 
of  lh(!  Peace  and  S|av(;  rivers,  and  when 
we  started  tin?  next  morninji',  lony  before 
daylij;hf,  the  temperatui'O  was  :]'t'  below 
zero,  and  our  rout(!  lay  down  the  Slave 
River.  I  noted  vei-y  little  ditt'erence 
b(itween  tin;  .scenery  of  this  aiul  that  of 
the  Athal)asca  River— unless  jjossibly  the 
banks  of  the  latter  i\vt\  somewhat  hij^her 
and  more  heavily  wooded.  In  fact,  there 
is  slight  ciian<4'0  in  the  scene  any  where  in 
the  countiy.  except  that  caused  by  the 
•ifradual  diminution  of  lind)er  as  you  pfo 
north,  until  it  dwarfs  into  the  "land  of 
little  sticks,"  above  Great  Slave  Lake, 
and  disappears  altou'etlier  at  the  Barren 
(irounds.  It  is  a  country  where  the  wa- 
tercourses are  the  highways — for  canoes 
in  summer  and  snow-shoes  in  winter. 
The  land  is  without  roads,  aiul  stray  where 
you  will,  you  may  stand  on  unexplored 
soil.  The  river-banks  are  well  timbered, 
bill  back  of  them  stretches  away,  far  be- 
yond the  Indian.s'  ken,  the  trackless,  uii- 
inhabitai)le  muske<>'. 

My  joy  at  being  out  of  the  cariole  was 
brief,  for  the  pain  of  my  ankle  was  inten- 
sified by  the  hard  track  on  which  we 
were  running,  and  the  ice  was  full  of 
cracks  and  holes,  which  in  darkness  are 
always  dangerous  to  the  roj/ageii)',  and 
w(!re  especially  so  to  me  in  my  crippled 
condition.  We  had  the  coldest  weather  I 
experienced  before  reaching  the  Bai'rens, 
the  mercui'v  touch inj^'  i){)°  below  the  sec- 
ond niyiit,  aiul  beginning'  at  42°  and  go- 
ing- to  48°  on  the  third  day.  The  only 
relief  I  had  to  the  nu)notony  of  travel 
was  afforded  me  by  Roderick  aiul  Mau- 
rice in  setting  fox-traps,  and  my  own  ex- 
l)eriment  with  a  pair  of  Norwegian  snow- 
shoes  (skis),  wliich  I  had  made  at  Chip- 
ewyan,  and  that  I  found  inferior  to  the 
web  shoe. 

Altliougli  we  were,  indeed,  going  along 
at   a   pretty   lively   gait,  and    quite  fast 


enough  \<>v  my  physical  condition,  my 
mental  half  chafed  at  IIk;  |)ace.  and  was 
impatient  to  reach  Kort  Smith.  My  eyes 
had  been  on  this  post  ever  sinc<'  I  left  lh(> 
railroad.  It  seemed  the  Mecca  of  my 
trip,  for  here  lived  James  McKinley.  the 
only  man  who  could  leally  give  me  any 
information  of  the  Barren  (Jrounds,  as 
he  not  only  had  been  stationed  at  (ireat 
Slave  Lake,  but  made  a  summer  trij)  to 
that  land  of  desolation  with  Wjirbni'ton 
i'ike.  But  the  way  was  hard  and  the 
long  stretches  of  river  disheai'tcniiig.  It 
is  an  interesting  fact  that  I  always  fouiul 
I  travelled  easier  where  the  river  was  tor- 
tuous, foi',  though  knowing  the  distance 
to  be  none  the  less,  the  many  bends  gave 
heart  to  reach  the  point  beyond,  while 
when  I  caniff  upon  a  long  stretch  the 
bare  work  of  i-unning  stared  me  in  the 
face,  and  the  distance  seemed  twofold. 
We  really  made  very  good  time,  and  ar- 
I'ived  at  Fort  Smith  on  the  morning  of 
the  27th.  having  been  three  days  and  two 
houi's  doing  the  US  miles. 

Though  pre])ared  for  a  cordial  reception 
at  the  post,  since  McKinley "s  big  heart 
ami  helping  iiand  are  known  from  eiul  to 
end  of  the  North-land,  the  heartiiu>ss  of 
my  welcome  and  the  solicitude,  for  my 
coiulition  quite  overpowered  me.  To  one 
coming  from  the  pulsing  city,  where  it  is 
'"evei-y  man  for  himself,  and  the  devil 
take  the  hindmost,"  it  seems  curious  to 
have  strangers  that  know  you  but  in  the 
l)assing  take  an  interest  in  your  move- 
inents  and  exhibit  concern  for  your  com- 
fort. 

I  was  soon  sitting  in  McKinley 's  unpre- 
tentious cabin,  Avith  the  water  he  had 
brought  soothing  my  swollen  feet,  and  the 
tea  his  wife  had  brewed  wai'ining  me. 
When  I  was  refreshed,  McKinley  made  me 
lie  down,aJul  then  we  talked  of  my  pro- 
posed hunt  foi-  nuisk-ox.  He  reiterated  the 
assurances  I  had  received  ever  since  start- 
ing that  I  could  not  get  into  the  Barrens 
in  midwinter  and  get  out  again.  He 
doubted  whether  I  could  iiuluce  Indians 
to  make  the  attempt  for  love  or  money,  but 
as  I  was  bent  on  the  effort,  advised  me  to 
try  to  secure  Beniali,  a  Dog-Rib  leader, 
and  one  of  the  best  huntei-s  and  most  cou- 
rageous Indians  in  the  country.  He  said 
none  of  the  Indians  would  be  at  Slave 
Lake  at  this  time,  and  that  the  only  sure 
way  of  getting  into  communication  with 
them  was  by  sending  a  runner  to  Res- 
olution with  a  letter  to  Gaudet,  the  Hud- 


ON   SNOVV-8HOES   TU   TlIK    MAHHKN   (UiOl'NDS. 


yci» 


son  l?iiy  Coiiipaiiy  oflicor 
ill  cliiiiyc,  iisUiiiy  liiiii  to 
send  after  li(Miiali.  who 
would  very  lil<cly  be  liiint- 
iiiy  ill  tli(^  woods  six  or 
•  'iyiit  days'  journey  from 
Slaves  Lai<«'.  Mcanwliilc 
he  was  orjjaiii/.iiii;'  •>  wood- 
liison  Imiit  with  Henry 
Tok(f  Miiiin,  an  Kn;,''Iisli 
iiian.  who  had  Ijccii  in  the 


hords  lliat  have  hecn  sacrillccd  to  man's 
^frt'i'd. 

Till'  niiiski'jj  wlicro  he  ranyes  in  tiir 
Nortlilaiid  sliows  no  trail,  and  if  it  ditl. 
it  would  remain  undiscovered,  for  it  is 
iiiipassalile  to  the  iiunter  in  summer, 
and  in  winter  is  covered  hy  snow  to  the 
depth  of  several  feet.  Really  lilth  is 
known  of  the  wood  liison.  except  that  he 
is  e-|'adualiy  yoiiiy  the  w;iy  of  the  plains 
species,  from  the  dilliciillies  of  niaiiitain- 


(  iiiim:\vvan 

TI(iri'IN(J-MII<PK 

— TllllKK    FKKT 

I.OMi. 


country  a  year,  and  made     injjfan  existence  where  <-limate,  pasturage, 

tiiul  inuii  are  ail  a<rainst  him. 
Kecentlya  law  liasheen  passed 
liy  the  Canadian  o'overiinient 
Ijrohihiting  tlieir  killing;',  luit 
it  will  lie  impo>sil)le  to  enfoiNe 
it.  since  no  mundane  power 
could  stop  a  starviiijjf  Indian 
from  shooting  if  he  <,''ot  the  op 
Jiortunity.  A  clieck  can  he  put 
to  .sendiiij,''  out  the  liide,  l)iif 
that  would  not  prevent  killinjr 
for  tlio  meat,  Moreover,  my 
inquiry  did  not  discover  any 
wholesale  slaughter  of  these 
animals. 

8ome  tliirty  years  ajro  a  siid 
den  and  exceptional  thaw  in 
midwinter,  followed  l)y  a  se- 
vere storm  and  hitter  cold, 
that  covered  the  snow  with 
ice  wliich  the  bison  could  not 
break,  caused  the  death  of  a 
very  great  many  from  star- 
vation and  freezing.  Again, 
three  years  ago,  aiiolln  r  thaw 
and       .storm 


a  summer  and 
an  autumn  tri]) 
into  the  Bar- 
I'ens,  with  the 
hard  luck  of  getting  only  a 
musk  cow  head,  after  a  most 
trying  experience,  and  they 
would  be  glad  to  have  me  join 
them.  Til  is  accorded  with  my 
]»lans  nicely,  for  I  had  intend- 
ed making  a  i)i.soii  hunt,  and 
it  could  now  be  accomplished 
without  loss  of  time — an  im- 
portant consideration  —  while 
Jieniah  was  being  found  and 
brought  to  Resolution.  Con- 
sequently an  "express"  was 
despatched  to  Resolution,  and 
pending  the  return  of  Munn, 
who  was  in  the  woods  trap- 
])ing,  and  would  be  back  the 
following  day,  I  rested  while 
"Mc"  told  me  of  the  country 
and  its  people  and  its  life, 
which  he  has  learned  so  well 
in  his  twenty  years'  residence. 
The  wood-bison  is  the  once 
familiar   species    of   our   own 


gavetlielnd- 


niKR    III'NTINO-SIIOB— 

SIX    FKKT  I.ONO. 

ians  an  op- 
Western  plains,  grown  lieavier  in  his  portunit}'  for  that  dia- 
retirement  from  the  old  life,  when  the  holical  diversion  of 
trail  of  his  hunter  never  grew  cold,  and  crusting, by  which  nieth- 
he  rested  neither  by  day  nor  night.  lie  od  some  men  reared  in 
is  the  same  animal  with  a  more  rounded 
stern,  acquired  by  his  life  of  compara- 
tive restfulne.ss,  and  a  heavier,  darker 
rolx!  to  protect  him  from  the  colder 
climate  of  his  adopted  home.  How 
long  he  has  been  in  this  country  there  these  were  unusual  oc- 
are  no  nieuns  of  iDwing.  The  present  casions.  Bison  are  not 
generation  of  Indi;  ns,  and  their  fathers  being  killed  in  large 
before  them,  have  dways  hunted  him  in  numi)ers  nor  shot  fre- 
a  desultory  way,  but  there  are  no  Iradi-  qiiently  as  individuals, 
tions  of  an  earlier  bison,  and  the  co-intry  They  range  over  a  coun- 
in  which  he  roams  tells  no  tales.  There  try  too  large  and  too  dif- 
are  no  well-beaten  trails,  such  as  those  ficult  to  reach,  and  re- 
which  on  the  plains  last  even  to  the  quire  more  skilful  hunt- 
present  day,  to   remind   us   of  the  vast  ing   than    the    average 


the  civilized  world  hunt 
deer  and  moose  to  this 
day,  and  about  fifty 
bison  were  then  run 
down  and  killed.      But 


i.occiiRrx 

SIX    FKKT 


lOE— 
I.O.SO. 


iiro 


IIAIII'KIIS    NKW    MONTHLY    MAdAZINK. 


Iiidiiiii  is  <M|)iilili'  of.      Wiii'ii  i  was  ill  tin- 
coiiiili-y  liisl  winter  iiol  rvni  n  l)isoii  track 
had  lii-fii  s<'(!ii  ii|)  Id  IIk'  lime  of  oill'  liiliil. 
aiiit  tlic  lit>a<l  I  oltlaiiicd  tliroii^li  the  ixiiid 
iicss  ul'  Dr.  NFackay  was  tin-  last  out'  shut, 
and  that  two  years  Ixd'nrc.    So  t  lie  extermi 
iialion  of  wood  l)is(iii  lliroti^li  ilieir  liiiiil 
iiiy  l)y  Indians   is  nut  to  he  a|i|irelien(ied, 
w  liile  tiie  reiiiolcness  of  theii- country,  tlio 
dillieii  I  ties  of  access     to  say  iiothintr  of  the 
daii^icrs  of  starvalion  and    frcezinii'  once 
yon    o-et,    tliere  — proli'ct    them    from    tiie 
wliite  hunter. 

How  many  wood  hisoii  there  are  is  not 
ea.sily  eslinialed.  I  math'  dilij^^ent  iii- 
•  iniry  from  all  sourc(!S  of  information, 
and  their  iinmhers  as  told  oil'  to  mh' 
iMiiLii'd  from  ir>()  to  .'$00.  .losepli  Heaii- 
lien,  at  Smilli  l.andiny,  popularly  called 
"Susie""  hy  tiie  natives  that,  cannot  mas- 
ter till'  Knt^'lish  pronunciation,  and  anoth- 
er of  the  famous  Mcanlieii  family,  said  lie 
helievtid  ther(!  must,  he  a  tiiouisaiid;  lint 
then  "Siisi(*"  has  tin;  common  failing  of 
the  country,  and,  moreover,  iu^  (h'livered 
himself  of  this  statement  when  ho  was 
persiiadin;!'  us  to  tak(^  a  liuiit«'r  of  his  i-ec- 
ommendation,  and  whom  wo  afterwards 
cursed  witli  all  tin?  depth  and  hroadth 
and  warmth  of  Knylish  explelive. 

The  hisoii  ran^'o  in  the  country  hound- 
ed hy  I'eace,  Slave,  and  IJuH'alo  rivers, 
which  has  an  art^a  of  a  <;<)od  many  liiin- 
(Ii'cmI  miles.  As  they  loam  this  territory 
from  end  to  end,  and  are  usually  found 
in  small  herds,  the  one  of  lifty  that  was 
killed  a  few  years  aj^'o  heiiijn'  an  excep- 
tional coii^irej^-.uion,  and  as  the  Indians 
)iever  hunt  niort^  than  a  v<'r.y  small  piece 
of  this  section  in  one  winter,  the  diili- 
cult.y  of  arriving;'  at  a  close  estimate  of 
tlieir  total  uumher  may  he  uiiderslood. 

Personally  1  am  convinced  tliat  150 
comes  very  near  representing  their  total. 
Munn  and  I  in  our  hunt  very  thorouylily 
covered  tlie  larger  portion  of  their  more 
soiitlierly  rantice,  and  discovered  the  tracks 
of  tliirteeii;  Munii  in  a  suhsequent  liunt 
ill  a  more  northerly  part  of  tlieir  vaii<;(^ 
saw  the  tracks  of  forty;  neither  of  us 
heard  of  any  sij^'iis  hetweeii  these  two 
sections,  or  Peace  River  way:  and  I, 
wliile  at  Slave  Lake  i)reparin<>-  for  my 
musk  ox  hunt,  set  iii({uii'y  afoot  for  siyiis 
of  them  in  the  nu)st  northerly  jiiece  of 
their  ranye.  without  gettinp:  enougli  en- 
couras'cment  to  warrant  delayinj^  my 
start  for  the  Barren  Grounds  for  another 
attempt  to  hriny  out  a  bison  head  of  my 


own  killiii;r.      S<»   that   wo   two  were   tlie 
lirst  t{»  ))ractically  <'ovor.  one  way  aial  an 
ollnr,  their  enti.c!   ran>;o   in   one  winter, 
and  yet  we  lieartl  of  only  lifly-threol 

To  plan  a  hunt  was  one  Ihini;-.  hut  to 
^'el  started  (piite  another.  ILilf  a  do/en 
Indians  told  ns  hy  the  hour  how  much 
they  knew  of  the  liisoii  country  and 
how  nndouhted  their  prowess,  hut  whoso 
knowh'dye,  on  close  (piestioiiiny,  we 
found  little  more  than  our  own.  So 
we  spent  two  days  separating  fact  from 
liclion  hefore  (iiially  docidiny  C'alome 
and  Bushy  to  he  the  only  two  of  the  lot 
wortli  consiilei'injT.  But  Calonio  wanted 
a  rille  for  himself  and  a  satdv  of  Hour  for 
liis  wife  hel"ore  he  would  oven  discuss 
\va<i"es,  and  ]iusliy  was  uncertain  of  the 
section  which  we  liad  decided  to  hunt. 
Meanwhile  "Susie'"  .sent  word  that  ho 
liad  socuvod  a  yood  hiiiifor,  .leronii,  who 
know  the  country  well,  and  was  cer- 
tain to  lind  hi.son.  Wo  (hcided  on  .ler- 
emi  for  our  jfiiide.  and  Smilli  Landinj:', 
sixteen  miles  .south  of  the  post,  as  our 
startinjf  point.  It  was  15. .'50  on  the  after- 
noon of  Fehruary  1st  when  I\lcKinIoy. 
Munii,  and  I  yot  underway  for  the  Land- 
iiifj,  with  two  trains  of  dojis  cari-yiny  our 
sleopinjj;'  rohos,  twenty  pounds  of  Itacon, 
fifty  jiounds  of  Hour,  three  i)ounds  of  tea, 
and  six  pounds  of  tohacco,  to  last  live  of  us 
for  the  oi^i'litdays  wee.\])ected  would  com- 
plete the  hunt,  and  it  was  (!.,'{0  when  we 
liad  ^.''ono  the  eijihteen  miles  that  hroiijiht 
ns  to  "Susie's'"  <'al)iii.  We  limited  our 
own  sup])lios  to  the  last  dej^reo,  hecause 
we  know  the  yoinj^'  would  he  heavy  and 
the  lisli  for  the  do<^s  moi'o  tliaii  a  load,  and 
we  counted  on  the  snares  we  had  taken 
to  rojilenish  our  slock  from  the  rahhits 
that  swai'in  tlie  woods.  ]Iuiitin<;'  in  tliis 
countr.v  is  a  very  diH'orent  atl'air  from 
liuntiii<;'  in  any  other.  It  is  im))ossih]e  to 
take  a  supply  of  <>()()d  jirovisions.  or  oven 
a  ji'ood  supply  of  the  jioor  ])rovisioii  the 
land  utt'ords.  We  were  jiarticularly  lu.\- 
urioiis  in  havinji:  hacon  and  Hour,  for 
usually  dried  fish  and  dried  caribou  meat 
are  all  that  may  be  had.  It  is  out  of  the 
question  to  be  well  fed  or  comfortable ; 
lisli  for  the  dogs  must  be  carried,  distances 
are  j:reat,  travelling  fatiguing',  and  hunt- 
ing hard.  Then  there  is  the  exireme  dif- 
ficulty of  getting  good  hunters — the  Ind- 
ians are  great  braggarts  but  poor  hunters 
— and  the  annoyance  of  making  terms 
with  them.  They  invariably'  want  every- 
thing in  sight  wliile  negotiating,  and  sub- 


9 

5 


S 


373 


HARPER'S    NEW    MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


seiiiieiitly  tliscover  eitlier  a  stai'viii<;*  wife, 
whom  you  feed. or  inoccasiiiless  feet,  wliicli 
you  covfir.  lint  "  Susie  "  assured  us  in 
C'i'ee.  (Jliipewyan.  Freiicli,  and  in  tlie  liin- 
it<'(l  Kuji'Iisli  iit  liis  coiniuaud,  of  wliicli  lie 
is  very  proud,  if  uncertain,  that  we  sliould 
have  no  lroul)ie  of  any  sort  willi  .leremi, 
or  .losepli.  iiis  aide  de-ciiiiip.  And  so  we 
accepted  Jerenii  in  conlidence, for  "Susie" 
is  an  important  jx'rsoiiage  among  his  peo- 
ph',  wlio  trad(!  with  liim,  and  alwnys  refer 
to  him  as  a  lK),<r<je<)is,  whicli,  curiously 
enough,  in  this  country  is  a  compliment- 
ary title  indicating  superiority. 

.I.'i'emi  was  one  of  the  most  unique 
tatterdennilions  I  belield  on  my  trip. 
Munn  and  I  instuntly  dubl)ed  him  the 
Ancient  Wari-ioi-;  not  that  his  appear- 
ance was  forijidding,  or  that  he  ever  re- 
vealed any  predilection  for  tlie  war-piith. 
except  perhaps  when  Joseph  helped  him- 
self too  generously  to  the  gren^e  '_.  the 
frying  pa M,  but  he  lool<ed  as  though  he 
might  have  just  conu;  oti'  a  '"mai-ch 
throuii'l;  (leorgia,"  and  there  was  a  weari- 
ness about  ev(>rv  motion  that  suggested 
h)ng  and  arduous  camijaigning.  He 
was  tall  and  giiunt,  with  an  appetite 
for  tea  and  grease  1  never  saw  equalled, 
and  a  costume  "vlnf;li  batlled  descrii)tion. 
Two  thicic  i>;ck>"-  of  liair  hung  forward 
of  his  ears  and  u<)wu  to  his  chin,  a  turban 
whose  original  cc'or  h.  J  long  since  been 
lost  to  view  e:  tircleJ  his  head,  and 
crowning  all  was  a  very  small  cap  he  had 
got  from  some  trader  many  years  befoi'e, 
aiul  which  sat  rakishly  on  one  side  or  the 
other  of  his  head,  and  consistently  fell  ott' 
every  time  he  departed  from  the  perpen- 
dicular. His  preparations  for  sleeping  al- 
ways atfoi'ded  me  a  great  deal  of  quiet 
amusement.  He  would  squat  Indian  fash- 
ion (and  Indian  fashion  di tiers  from  tailor 
fashion  only  in  that  the  feet  are  crossed  be- 
hind and  are  sat  on)  before  the  fire,  warm- 
ing his  hack  andstonuichiilternately  ;  then 
lie  would  heap  up  a  pile  of  frozen  ral)bitsfor 
a  pillow,  roll  up  in  his  robe,  and  lie  down 
to  snore.  Very  high  pillows,  l)y-the-way, 
are  common  to  all  the.se  Indians  ;  tliey 
gather  everything  loose  about  camp  and 
stow  it  away  under  their  heads,  until  they 
are  raised  a  couple  of  feet.  It  was  always 
a  wonder  to  me  how  they  slept  at  all, 
though  I  found  in  the  Barren  (Irounds, 
whei'e  there  is  no  brusli  to  soften  your 
bed.  and  you  lie  on  rock  cliieHy.  ami  al- 
ways on  your  side,  that  a  moderately  high 
pillow  is  dcsiriihlc.  as  it  relieves  the  shoul- 


der  from    bearing  the  entire   weight  of 
your  body. 

It  was  rather  late  in  the  afternoon  of 
February  2d  when  we  left  the  Landing 
on  a  southwest  course,  which  took  us  to 
and  up  Salt  River,  and  finally  to  a  tree- 
less twelve -mile  stretch,  on  the  edge  of 
which  we  made  a  wretched  c;imp  in  the 
increasing  cold  and  with  insufHcient  fire- 
wood. There  "  Susie,"  who  had  also  de- 
cided to  make  a  try  for  bison,  joined  us 
that  night.  This  made  us.  all  told,  a  coni- 
})any  of  seven,  which  was  not  to  Munn's 
liking,  and  certainly  not  to  mine,  foi-  of 
all  things  I  have  ever  shunned,  none  has 
been  avoided  more  studiously  than  a 
large  hunting  party.  However,  there 
was  no  way  of  mending  matters.  The 
wind  grew  stronger,  and  the  mercury  fell 
to  40°  below,  which  not  only  froze  the 
noses,  ears,  and  chins  of  all  of  us  the  ne.\t 
morning  crossing  the  open  country,  but, 
what  was  more  serious,  put  such  a  crust 
on  the  snow  that  liunting  an  animal  so 
wary  as  the  bison  was  next  to  impossible. 
For  two  days  we  journeyed  on  toward 
the  section  Jeremi  "  knew  so  well,"  going 
through  a  fine  game  country  of  swamps 
covered  with  coar.se  grass,  ami  surrounded 
by  willows,  sniiill  patches  of  pine,  spi-itce, 
and  poplar,  and  plenty  of  moose  signs 
everywhere,  m  fact,  this  part  of  the 
country  is  one  of  the  best  game  districts 
in  the  North.  On  the  morning  of  the 
third  day,  being  at  the  edge  of  the  bison 
country,  Munn.  "Susie,"  Jei-emi,  and  I 
went  on  ahead  looking  for  signs,  "Mc" 
preferi'ing  to  remnin  with  the  outfit  to 
bring  up  trains,  and  pitch  camp  where  we 
might  indicate,  as  we  did  seven  miles  far- 
ther on.  In  a  very  cold  wind  we  tram])e(l 
for  about  twenty-five  miles — stopi)ingonce 
to  build  a  fire,  that  the  Ancient  Warrior 
might  warm  his  feet,  and  again  to  eat  a 
frozen  bi.scuit  we  had  each  fetclied — across 
small  lakes,  over  miirshes  cut  u])  by  creeks, 
and  along  thickly  wooded  ridges,  but  the 
sight  of  not  a  solitary  bison  track  reward- 
ed our  .search. 

"Susie"  and  .leremi  were  l)oth  much 
di.sappoinfed.  for  they  had  conlidently 
expected  to  find  signs  in  this  i)articular 
section;  so  the  next  morning,  our  ])ro- 
visions  having  run  low,  McKinley,  "  Su- 
.'■ie."  ami  his  Indian  turned  back  for  the 
Landing,  while  ^Miniii  and  I  set  Jerenii 
and  .Joseph  to  making  snai'cs.  determined 
to  lay  in  supplies  here  before  going  deej)- 
er  into   the    bison   countrv.      Then,   too. 


ON   SNOW-SHOES   TO   THE   BARREN   GROUNDS. 


373 


Mss 


ly 

111' 

I'O- 

lie 
ini 
uhI 

oo, 


we  knew  two  sous  of  Jerenii's  would  be 
pussin<>'  on  tlieir  way  to  ti  cache  of  cli-iecl 
moose  meat.  So  we  bettered  our  ciiinp  to 
protect  us  from  the  wind,  and  wliile  oiii" 
two  Indians  cau<>lit  i'abl)its,  Munii  and  1 
chopped  lirewood,  and  smoked,  and  drank 
tea. 

Wliat  truly  astoundinj;- quantities  of  tea 
and  tobaccM)  one  consumes,  and  wliai  a 
craving  for  yiease  one  acquires  in  this 
imconyenial  clime!  I  found  tlie  stron<^ 
black  pluy  traded  to  the  Indians  a  desir- 
able stimulant  in  tlie  Barren  (Jrounds, 
where  a  i)ipe  and  a  cup  of  tea  constituted 
one's  bill  of  fare  for  sevei'al  days  at  a 
time,  and  tea  lo  be  much  more  bracin<!^ 
than  cott'ee.  Cott'ee  is  the  alle<;-ed  luxury 
of  the  North-land,  and  only  to  be  had  at 
an  occasional  otlicer's  table;  but  grease, 
in  point  of  fact,  is  the  real  luxury.  Only 
eternal  vigilance  will  save  your  cache, 
and  nothing  less  jiersuasive  than  a,  shot- 
gun rescue  it  from  the  liandsof  its  Indian 
discoverer.  We  staid  in  this  camp  two 
days,  and  in  that  time  snared  rabbits 
enough  to  last  us  and  the  dogs  a  week, 
and  to  Mil  me  with  revulsion  at  the  very 
sight  of  one. 

There  is  something  peculiarly  offensive 
in  rabbit  after  continuous  diet.  I  have 
lived  at  one  time  or  another  during  my 
liunting  e.vperiences  on  one  kind  of  game 
for  periods  of  varying  length,  but  iiotliing 
ever  lilled  me  with  such  loathing  as  rab- 
bit. Indeed,  it  is  commonly  said  by  the 
Iiulians  that  they  *"  starve  on  rabbit,"  and 
after  my  experience  I  can  easily  under- 
stand it;  you  may  eat  until  you  are  sur- 
feited, but  after  a  couple  of  hours'  hard 
travelling  you  fetd  as  empty  as  though 
in  the  midst  of  a  prolonged  fast.  There 
is  neither  nourishment  nor  strength  in  the 
meat,  and  yet  the  rabbit  seems  almost  to 
be  manna  for  the  otherwise  God-forsaken 
land.  In  countless  numbers  they  skurry 
overtheentirecountry.andai'e  just  the  or- 
dinary rabbit  known  everywhere,  except 
that  here  they  change  to  white  in  the 
winter,  and  on  the  lower  Ban-en  Grounds 
double  in  size,  and  become  arctic  hares. 
Every  seventh  year  their  numbers  are  de- 
creased a  good  half  by  a  mysterious  and 
deadly  disease,  anil  then  the  Indians  suf- 
fer, for  no  one  can  say  how  many  depend 
on  them  for  sul»sistence.  If  there  is  cari- 
bou or  moose  meat  or  lish  at  the  lodge. 
it  goes  to  the  hunters,  who  nuist  fae(>  the 
storms  and  withstand  the  hai-dsliips  of 
travel;    but   the    "squaw   men,""  the  old 


men,  and  certainly  th(>  women  and  chil 
dren,  more    llian   once   during  the  year 
owe  their  very  lives  to  the  rabbit.      So.  al- 
though despised  by  me,  he   is  revered  in 
this  home  of  snow  and  iiunger. 

We  moved  only  lifteen  miles  the  (irst 
day  we  broke  our  ral)l)it  camp,  keei)ing  a 
shai'p  lookout  all  the  way.  and  passing 
over  a  country  lilled  with  curious  bowl- 
shajjcd  depressions  that  ranged  from  t<'u 
to  lifty  feet  in  depth  and  i)ro])orti()nately 
wide,  and  at  night  the  Ancient  War- 
rior"s  sons  turned  up  to  gladden  our 
hearts  and  i-elieve  our  stomachs  wiih 
dried  moose  meat.  Dried  nu'at,  by-the- 
"way,  caribou  or  moose,  when  at  its  best,  is 
about  as  thick  as  sole-leather,  and  of  the 
same  consistency  ;  wIhmi  it  is  pool- it  some- 
what resembles  piii-chmeiit  in  thickness 
and  succulence.  It  is  made  l)y  culling 
the  fresh  meat  into  strips,  which  are  hung 
in  the  sun  to  dry,  and  subsequently  over 
the  lii-e  to  smoke,  and  is  the  ordinary  food 
on  these  ex])editions,  because  dried  it  is 
so  nuich  easier  carried  about.  It  is  not 
toothsome,  but  it  is  filling,  and  that  is  the 
main  desideratum  in  this  country.  Fresh 
meat  is  the  hunter"s  luxury. 

The  coming  of  these  two  boys  gave  me 
my  first  insight  into  the  relations  be- 
tween Indian  parents  and  children.  They 
arrived,  one  with  a  badly  frozen  cheek, 
t!!'>  other  with  frozen  fingers,  and  both 
sliivering  with  cold,  yet  Jeremi  scarcely 
turned  his  head  in  greeting,  n)ade  lu)  sign 
to  give  them  room  by  his  own  warm  place 
at  the  fireside,  nor  showed  paternal  solici- 
tude for  their  sufferings.  They  scraped 
away  a  little  snow  at  the  edge  of  our 
camp,  and  there  rolled  up  in  their  blank- 
ets, while  their  dogs  and  ours.  l)y  the  light 
of  a  glorious  nu)on.  mingled  in  an  ani- 
mated light  that  lasted  a  good  part  of  tin; 
night,  and  was  waged  vigoriuisly  around 
and  over  us.  The  dog  is  the  one  member 
of  the  Indian  family  that  is  no  respecter 
of  age  or  sex.  But  the  boys  pay  the 
])enalty  of  youth,  as  their  sisters  and  mo- 
thers do  of  wonunthood. 

We  were  now  wh(>r«>  the  sight  of  bison 
was  an  hourly  expi'ctation  ;  we  Inid  come 
over  one  hundred  miles  into  their  rang*' 
without  a  glimpse  of  a  track,  new  or  old, 
and  Munn  and  1  decided  oui-  (piarry  to 
be.  as  indeed  he  is.  the  rarest  of  the 
I'are.  W(>  travelled  all  day  along  and  up 
and  down  ridges,  where  men  and  dogs 
could  scarcely  drag  the  sledge  for  fallen 
tind)er  and  sharp  ascents,  and  whei'e  the 


Tl?dtrk,^''e*'\L.'l) 


.IKKKMl    WAS    TOO    yllCK    WITH    HIS    (lUN. 


SHOW  WHS  (l(M'p.  and  bfcakiiiu'  trail  oxc(>s- 
sivcly  liaivl.  especially  willi  trippiiiii'sliocs 
oil  wliicli  you  sunk  to  tlie  kiioo,  and  with 
tlic  toe  of  wliicli  you  barked  your  shins 
as  you  raised  your  foot,  al'tor  every  step 
to  shake  oil'  the  shovelful  of  accuiiiiilali'd 
snow.  Ill  this  fashion  we  worlu'd  our 
way  for  aliout  twenty  miles,  and  yet  saw 
no  sii^iis,  P)Ut  w(>  did  liave  a  iiiie  cainp 
in  the  woods  lliat  niyht.  willi  a  roaring;', 
warniinu'  lire,  and  such  a  glorious  auroral 
exliihilioii  as  I  had  never  hefor<>  helidd. 
nor  ever  afterwards  saw  surpassed.  Now 
there  were  daiu'inii'  wav<>s  of  eliaiii;inji' 
red  and  violet  expandin^i'  and  iiarrow- 
iiiu'  and  whirlinu'  across  tli(>  sl<y  in 
phaiiloiii  dances  ;  then  i^reat  radiant 
streaks    of    ^(dd<'ii    i^reeiiish    pierced    the 


li(>avens  like  iridescent  searcli -lijilits  of 
incoinparalile  jiower  and  brilliancy.  It 
was  all  so  starlliiij:ly  hrilliant  and  woii- 
d«M'fulIy  beautiful.  And  I  lay  on  my 
back,  with  the  Indians  on  one  side  and 
the  (loos  all  around,  and  stared  at  the 
iiiaLiniliceiit  spectacle,  and  forji'ot  the 
rahhils, 

'rh<>  Indians  have  nodelinite  idea  touoli- 
iiiii'  the  aurora:  in  their  always  apt  no- 
menclature they  call  it  the  "li<:lits  that 
move  (piickly."  and  in  general  acc(>pt  the 
exhihition  as  iiK'rely  the  siyii  of  wind  or 
line  weathei'.  The  Doo'  Kilis  say  it  is  the 
spirits  of  their  ancestors  lioldiny  a  dance; 
anotluM'  tribe  varies  this  only  by  substi- 
tr.liiiL;'  I  i  lib  t  i  11  <i'  for  danciny:  but  there  is 
really   no    attempt     at    solution.       These 


ON  SNOW-SH(  ES  TO  THE  BARREN  GROUNDS. 


375 


HiSfc^ 


<1( 


io'lits  of 
cy.  It 
d  woii- 
on  uiy 
(]('  and 
t  tlie 

Liot     tlie 

'il  loiu'li- 
apt.  iio- 

its    lllilt 

ccpt,  the 

wind  oi" 

it  is  ill e 

11  dance: 

sul)sti- 

tlici-e  is 

These 


Indians  are  too  thoroughly  occupied  in 
solving  the  problem  of  living.  They  do 
claim,  however,  that  the  aurora  is  at 
times  a\idible,  and  some  scientists  bear 
them  out.  Personally  I  can  add  little 
certainty  to  the  uncertain  information 
on  the  question.  Twice  on  my  trip,  at 
night,  when  there  were  auroral  displays, 
1  heard  noises  somewhat  like  the  rustling 
or  crackling  of  a  silken  banner  standing 
out  in  the  wind,  but  whether  it  was  made 
by  settling  or  cracking  snow  and  ice,  or 
by  the  aurora,  I  cannot  affirm.  There  is 
little  opportunity  to  test  the  matter  in 
winter,  for,  what  with  storms  and  winds, 
an  absolutely  still  night  is  as  rare  as  a 
day  in  June. 

The  next,  our  ninth  out  from  the  Land- 
ing, was  tho  memorabl ;  day  of  the  hunt. 
It  opened  in  hope — for  we  were  in  the 
heart  of  the  bison  country — and  closed 
in  despair,  for  in  one  shoi't  hour  we  had 
seen  and  chased  and  lost  our  game. 

We  broke  camp  at  daylight,  to  reach 
on  this  day  the  lake  about  which  we  ex- 
pected to  find  bison,  and  the  country  we 
I)enetrated  had  not  before  been  hunted 
by  the  Indians.  It  was  broken  into  num- 
berless little  gullies  and  ridges,  none  of 
which  Jeremi  missed  in  his  wandering, 
and  the  snow  was  so  deep,  and  dead 
timber  and  thickly  grown  small  fir  so 
formidable,  we  made  haste  very  slowly. 
What  with  clearing  a  way  for  the  sledge, 
disentangling  the  dogs,  and  keeping  on 
our  feet,  we  advanced  but  twelve  miles 
all  daj'.  We  were  in  an  unexplored 
country,  and  the  Ancient  Warrior  was 
lost.  He  invariably  carried  us  to  the  top 
of  the  highest  ridge  that  lay  anywhere 
within  striking  distance  of  our  course, 
and,  once  there,  would  send  Joseph  up  a 
tree  to  scan  the  horizon,  while  he  .sank 
on  his  knees  in  Avhat  had  the  appear- 
ance of  a  supplication  for  light  on  the 
darkness  of  our  way,  but  was  in  reality 
liis  habitual  attitude  when  filling  his 
pipe.  From  one  of  these  ridges  we  saw 
Caribou  Mountain  near  by,  really  not 
more  pretentious  than  a  foot-hill,  but 
which  in  this  Hat  country  bears  tlie  dis- 
tinction of  great  altitude. 

So  we  travelled  on,  wearied  by  the  very 
hard  walking,  and  wondering  if  iiuleed 
there  were  any  bison  in  the  land.  At 
one  o'clock  we  crossed  a  lake,  but  not  the 
lake,  where  we  saw  fresh  moose  and  cari- 
bou tracks,  which  we  could  not  of  course 
afford  to  follow,  at   the   risk  of  scaring 

Vol..  XCII.— No.  549.-39 


the  big  game  we  were  after,  much  as  we 
should  have  liked  fresh  meat.  Just  after 
crossing  tlie  lake  the  Ancient  Warrior 
bore  to  the  right  of  a  sharp  little  ridge, 
and  Munn  and  I  gave  the  dogs  a  spell  of 
a  few  moments,  while  we  lighted  oiu* 
pipes,  and  joked  about  the  old  man  hav- 
ing overlooked  the  ridge,  and  concluded 
he  must  have  gone  snow-blind.  But  even 
as  we  talked  he  turned  to  the  left  and  be- 
gan slowly  plodding  up  the  ridge;  where- 
upon we  agreed  he  was  about  to  send 
Joseph  aloft  again,  and  was  seeking  high 
ground.  Perhaps  he,  in  fact,  was  —  I 
never  asked  him — but  Munn  and  I  had 
hardly  reached  the  foot  of  the  ridge  when 
Jeremi  came  hurrying;  back  as  excited  as 
a  phlegmatic  Indian  ever  gets,  and  we 
suggested  he  had  seen  the  "enemy,"  which 
these  superstitious  creatures  are  ever  en- 
countering, to  their  utter  demoralization. 

But  the  Ancient  Warrior  had  the  joke 
on  us  this  time,  for  he  fairly  whisper- 
ed, "Buffalo."  Instantly  Munn  and  I 
were  tingling.  At  last  the  game  we  had 
tramped  so  far  to  get  was  at  hand ;  heart- 
breaking trails,  leaden  snow-shoes,  and 
rabbits  were  forgotten  as  the  hunter's 
blood  swept  throMgh  our  veins  at  the 
mention  of  bison.  We  four  gatliered 
closely  in  a  little  circle,  and  then  in  sub- 
dued tones  Jei'emi  told  Joseph,  in  Cl'.ipe- 
wyan,  and  Joseph,  a  few  words  at  a  time, 
translated  to  us  in  North-laud  French,  that 
the  ridge  was  literally  covered  with  tracks, 
that  they  were  fairly  fresh,  that  we  would 
leave  the  dogs  where  they  were  undercov- 
er, and  take  up  the  bison  trail  at  once. 

I  do  not  become  stirred 
Avhen  we  got  on  top  of  the  ridge  and  the 
tracks  were  before  me,  my  heart  quick- 
ened, and  there  .seemed  no  obstacles  I 
could  not  surmount  to  reach  my  quarry. 
There  Avere  the  tracks,  sure  enough,  like 
those  of  cattle,  quite  fresh — probably  yes- 
terday's. We  moved  slowly  along  the 
ridge,  Joseph,  Jeremi,  Munn,  and  I,  in 
Indian  tile,  .scanning  the  willow-surround- 
ed swamps  on  either  side,  each  stepping 
in  the  other's  shoe-prints,  but  making 
quite  a  bit  of  noise,  nevertheless,  for  the 
snow  was  hard,  and  the  shoes  crunched 
and  cracked  it  to  an  alarming  effect  on 
the  nerves  of  the  stalking  hunter.  For- 
tunately a  strong  wind  blew  in  our 
faces.  In  half  a  mile  the  tracks  multi- 
plied, and  were  very  fresh — made  that 
day — so  we  took  off  our  snow-shoes  and 
continued  on  as  noiselessly  as  po.ssible. 


easilv,   but 


are 


HARrER'S  NEW  MONTHLY  MAGAZINE. 


And  now  tlie  ridgo,  liitlierto  tliickly 
covered  with  ])oplar  and  pine,  became  a 
bare  backbone  which  stretched  away  for 
about  125  yards  between  swamps,  and 
ended  in  a  sliarp  rise  thicltly  grown  with 
small  spruce. 

We  had  not  advanced  ten  yards  far- 
ther when  we  discovered,  simultaneous- 
ly, I  fancy,  for  we  all  crouched  and  drew 
our  rilles  f^ut  of  their  coats  together,  a 
shaggy  head  abcut  115  yards  in  front  of 
us.  A  second  and  careful  look  told 
me  it  was  a  bison  cow  about  two  years 
old,  with  forehead  sprinkled  with  either 
gray  or  white  hair  <  n  a  background  of 
light  brown.  She  was  standing  under 
the  spruce,  and  just  over  the  rise  of  the 
ridge,  so  I  could  see  only  her  forehead, 
eyes,  and  horns,  which  were  about  six 
inches  long,  and  straight  out  from  her 
head,  with  slight  curve  at  tips;  I  could 
not  see  her  muzzle.  The  wind  was  in 
our  favor,  and  she  had  not  scented  us, 
though  from  her  vantage  on  the  knoll 
she  had  lioard  and  evidently  seen  us 
beiore  we  si-^bred  her. 

Munn  and  I  had  not  before  hunted 
bison,  but  our  hunting  experience  was 
sufficient  to  make  action  under  such 
conditions  intuitive.  We  knew  for  sure 
there  was  a  herd  over  the  ridge.  We 
wanted  a  bull,  and  had  no  idea  of  firing 
on  a  heifer.  We  expected,  of  course,  Jer- 
emi  would  work  around  to  the  side  and 
under  the  ridge,  and  up  to  where  we 
could  view  and  get  a  shot  at  the  herd ;  or 
retreat  and  camp  several  miles  away, 
to  make  another  approach  next  morn- 
ing. The  lisifer  might  scamper  back  to 
the  cow,  but  she  could  not  put  tlie  herd 
to  flight,  and  meanwhile  we  should  make 
oiir  way  alon;;-  the  ridge,  perfectly  certain 
the  hex'd  would  not  run  until  they  scented 
or  saw  us,  or  we  made  undue  disturbance. 
It  was  a  .splendid  chance  for  a  skilful 
stalk,  just  the  situation  a  hunter  loves 
most  dearly.  I  did  not  consider  the  pos- 
sibility of  the  Indians'  shooting,  for  they 
had  agreed  at  the  Landing  not  to  Are  un- 
til Munn  and  I  had  done  so,  and  "Su- 
sie "'  said  they  Avould  keep  their  word, 
and  I  trusted  them.  I  know  more  of 
these  Indians  now  tlian  I  did  then. 

All  this  of  course  ran  through  my 
head  in  the  few  seconds  I  was  taking  my 
look  at  the  heifer,  and  Jeremi's  stealing 
oif  to  the  right  and  a  little  ahead  rather 
corroborated  my  mentitl  survey  of  the 
situation.     Suddenly,  however,  up  went 


the  guns  of  Jeremi  and  Joseph.  There 
was  no  time  for  remonstrance,  and  Munn 
and  I,  in  sheer  desperation  that  luck 
might  direct  the  bullets,  threw  up  our 
guns  also;  those  of  the  Indians  exploded 
before  we  had  ours  fairly  at  shoulder,  but 
we  pulled  trigger,  chiefly  because  of  that 
instinct  which  makes  one's  muscles  at 
times  work  in  sympathy  with  one's  wishes. 

I  was  so  stunned  by  the  sudden  turn  of 
affairs,  so  exasperated  at  the  Indians,  that 
I  was  sorely  tempted  to  empty  the  maga- 
zine of  my  rifle  into  them.  I  knew  I  could 
not  possibly  have  scored;  I  felt  sure  Munn 
hf  ^  not,  but  hoped  against  hope  that  he 
n.  1'  l)t  have  got  his  gun  up  for  a  sight. 
I  did  not  think  the  Indians  had,  for  they 
can  hardly  hit  a  barn  door  a  hundred 
yards  oH'.  If  I  thought  at  all  of  their 
scoring,  it  was  that  we  might  have  meat, 
which  we  needed  but  even  that,  I  am 
sure,  I  did  not  coh,sider. 

The  one  miserable  thought  that  we  had 
lost  what  had  been  a  good  chance  of  get- 
ting a  bison  head  was  u\)\  ermost,  for  this 
herd  would  run  for  days,  and  entirely 
beyond  our  reach.  Simultaneously  with 
the  shooting  the  heifer  disappeared,  and 
we  ran  to  the  top  of  the  knoll  in  hopes  of 
a  shot  at  the  flying  herd,  but  not  a  hoof 
was  in  sight,  so  rapid  had  been  their 
flight,  although  the  ridge  opened  to  view 
five  hundred  yards  away. 

We  discovered  a  few  small  drops  of 
blood  whei'e  the  heifer  had  stood,  counted 
the  beds  of  eleven  cows,  and  noted  the 
snow  beaten  down  into  paths  leading  tow- 
ard the  end  of  ridge  and  muskeg  to  the 
right;  and  then  began  a  mad  race  along 
the  faint  trail  of  blood,  in  hopes  that  the 
heifer  might  have  been  more  badly  wound- 
ed than  the  blood  showed,  and  turned  aside 
(as  is  their  custom  when  hard  hit)  from 
the  fleeing  herd.  But  we  had  only  a  hard 
run  in  the  deep  snow  as  recompense. 

And  then  we  returned  to  our  sledge  and 
sat  down  in  silence,  and  with  the  bitter 
realization  that  the  bison-hunt  was  at  an 
end.  We  did  not  say  much,  Munn  and  I; 
words  could  not  do  our  feelings  justice. 
There  is  hunters'  luck,  a,nd  the  sportsman 
who  has  sought  big  game,  and  experienced 
its  operations  for  and  against  him,  can 
sound  the  depths  of  our  disappointment. 
To  have  got  near  bison  at  all  was  re- 
markable, but  to  have  succeeded  after  a 
long  hard  hunt  in  getting  so  neai\  and 
actually  seeing  them,  only  to  have  our 
chance  for  a  kill  spoiled  by  the  stupidity 


A   MOTHER  IN   ISRAEL. 


377 


or  viciousness  of  our  Indians  was  too  keen 
a  grief  to  be  sootlied  by  mutual  condo- 
lence or  by  cursing  Jeremi. 

We  went  on  another  day,  and  saw 
more  tracks  of  the  same  herd,  but  none 
others,  and  then  we  turned  our  faces 
Fort- Smith  wards.  For  three  days  we 
travelled  by  the  compass,  for  we  were  lost, 
cutting  our  way  througli  forests  of  small 
fir,  grown  so  closely  as  to  render  progress 
almost  impossible  to  a  man,  much  less  for 
a  train  of  worn-out  dogs.  The  going  was 
very  hard,  and  hunger,  our  provisions  be- 


ing gone,  less  easy  to  bear  now  following 
upon  our  disappointment.  On  the  fourth 
day  we  came  out  on  our  trail  and  that 
night  Munn  and  I  reached  McKinley's 
cabin,  after  covering  forty-eight  miles 
between  7  A.M.  and  8  P.M.  Before  we 
slept  we  poured  our  tale  of  woe  into 
"  Mac's  "  sj'mpathetic  ears,  and  then  we 
all  decided  the  only  chances  of  success  in 
a  bison-hunt  to  be — time  enough  to  cover 
their  entire  range  from  north  to  south, 
and  once  on  their  tracks,  binding  the 
Indians  hand  and  foot. 


A    MOTHER  IN   ISRAEL. 

BY     IIJALMAR     IIJORTH     BOYESEX. 


can 

[lent. 

re- 

f^er  a 

and 

our 

Iditv 


V  !• 

"   4  N6THER  child,"  murmured  Judah 
J\   Memliiiger,  "another  sorrow." 

"  Shame  on  tliee,  Judah!''  said  Rachel, 
his  wife,  pres.sing  the  new-bor'i  babe  to 
her  breast.  "  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the 
Lord !" 

"Blessed  be  tlVe  name  of  the  Lord!" 
her  husband  repeated,  humbly,  and 'with 
bowed  head,  as  he  stared  with  mournful 
eyes  at  the  tiny  intruder. 

"The  child  is  not  Avell  favornl,  I  think," 
he  remarked,  at  the  end  oi  a  long  pause. 

"It  is  a  male  cliiid.  The  Lord  has 
done  well  by  him,"  said  Rs^chel,  severely. 

Baruch,  the  elder  son,  four  years  old, 
had  stolen  into  the  huslied  sick-room  ii. 
his  father's  wake,  and  stood  near  the  door, 
biting  his  thumb  with  suppres.sed  agita- 
tion. 

"Come,  Baruch,  and  see  thy  new  bro- 
ther," said  his  motlier. 

Baruvih,  with  an  acute  sense  of  his  un- 
worthiness,  sidled  up  to  the  bed.  There 
lay  a  puny  little  yellow  thing  with  blkck 
curly  hair,  and  one  small  Avrinkled  fist 
clinched  under  an  embryonic  nose.  Bk- 
ruch  stood  long  staring  at  him  in  silent 
wonder.  Then,  in  a  spix'it  of  enterprise, 
he  raised  his  hand  and  tentatively  touched 
his  cheek. 

"  Baruch,"  said  the  mother,  warn ingly, 
"  beware  that  thou  dost  not  hurt  thy  new 
brother!" 

Baruch  withdrew  his  finger  as  if  it  had 
been  burnt. 

Judah  Memlinger  was  by  trade  a  fur- 
rier, and  worked  for  a  Jewish  ma.sier  who 
had  the  finest  store  in  Odessa.  He  was 
neither  a  handsome  nor  a  clever  man; 
at  least  Gentile  eyes  would  not  have  pro- 


nounced him  either.  He  wore  the  two 
long  side  curls  of  the  orthod'^-:  Jew,  and 
Ills  black  forked  beard  ■•  as  rusty  and 
weather-bleached  at  the  ends.  There  was 
in  his  eyes  something  shy  and  alert,  as  of 
a  hunted  thing,  and  i\  peculiarly  anxious 
and  uneasy  look  was  habitual  to  his  fea- 
tures. Of  stature  he  was  small,  crooked, 
and  round-shouldered,  and  the  wide-skirt- 
ed black  caftan  .slouched  about  his  thin 
legs.  The  waxen  pallor  of  his  face  told 
of  late  hours  and  sedentary  labor  in  the 
close,  over-heated  workshop. 

Everybody  wondered  why  Nathan 
Rosenhain,  a  phj'sician  and  a  scholar, 
gave  his  daughter  in  marriage  to  so  hum- 
ble a  man  as  Judah.  It  was,  indeed, 
whispered  that  he  did  it  as  a  puni.shment 
for  permitting  her  heart  to  stray  beyond 
the  Ghetto.  Afterward,  it  was  said,  Na- 
than had  relented  somewhat,  and  had  al- 
lowed her  to  move  her  piano  to  her  new 
home.  For  that  piano  was  the  apple  of 
her  eye.  It  had  come  all  the  way  from 
Paris,  and  it  had  a  most  lovely  tone,  and 
was  beautifully  inlaid  with  ivory  and 
mother-of-pearl.  The  neighbors  often 
paused  under  Rachel's  windows  and  stood 
listening  to  her  wonderful  playiiig.  Some- 
times she  poured  torth  a  tempest  of  sound, 
with  strange  wailing,  sigliing,  lamenting 
chords  interspersed ;  and  sometimes  she 
lost  herself  in  melodious  mr.sings,  full  of 
sorrowful  resignation.  Then,  at  the  end 
of  a  yenr,  a  child  arrived,  and  a  change 
came  over  the  spirit  of  Rachel's  playing. 
A  new  tenderness  awoke  in  her  and  drove 
away  the  Herce  rebellion. 

Four  years  after  tlie  birth  of  Baruch 
another  son  was  born  to  Rachel,  and  she 
rejoiced  again  andvthanked  the  Lord.   She 


378 


HARPER'S    NEW   MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


called  liim  David  (thougli  none  of  her 
kindred  bore  this  name),  after  the  great 
king  of  Israel,  the  music  of  wliose  harp 
has  resounded  througli  the  ages  in  the 
hearts  of  numberless  generations. 

During  the  years  while  her  children 
were  suuill,  Rachel  devoted  herself  with 
unremitting  zeal  to  their  education.  In 
a  way  she  held  herself  responsible  for 
their  poverty  and  lowly  station.  It  did 
not  occur  to  her  that  if  she  had  married 
another  man,  these  children,  Baruch  and 
David,  would  never  have  come  into  the 
world.  It  was  her  fault,  she  thought,  that 
they  were  boi'n  to  contumely  and  depri- 
vation, and  she  would,  as  far  as  it  was 
in  her  power,  atone  to  them  for  it.  They 
were  not  to  be  journeymen  mechanics, 
like  their  father.  They  were  to  be  artists 
or  lawyers  or  physicians,  such  as  she 
had  seen  among  the  Jews  :n  Moscow. 
They  were  to  break  the  bondage  of  the 
close  and  lilthy  Ghetto  and  go  out  into 
the  world,  and  become  an  honor  to  their 
people.  It  was  with  this  in  view  that 
she  dragged  them  in  from  their  play  and 
taught  them  to  read  French  and  German. 
She  sat  up  late  at  night  in  order  to  re- 
fresh her  own  knowledge,  so  that  she 
miglit  impart  it  to  them;  nay,  she  began 
to  study  Latin  by  herself,  in  order  that 
she  might  help  to  fit  them  for  the  univer- 
sity. It  was  of  no  use  that  her  husband, 
being  unable  to  sympathize  with  her  am- 
bition, tried  to  throw  obstacles  in  her  way, 
and  even  threatened  to  complain  of  her 
to  the  Rabbi.  Obedient  to  her  wishes  as 
he  was  in  most  things,  in  this  he  remained 
sulkily  obstinate. 

If  she  had  used  his  money  for  purchas- 
ing the  dangerous  books  he  could  have 
pleaded  his  poverty,  and  jjerhaps  persuad- 
ed her  to  de.sist.  But  she-  had  obtained 
several  pupils  in  music  of  late,  and  earned 
enough  to  be  independent  of  him.  Tall 
of  stature,  with  a  certain  queenly  un- 
consciousness of  her  own  loveliness,  she 
went  her  way,  intent  upon  her  task,  and 
let  the  turbulent  currents  of  life  roll 
by  her  unheeded.  Her  bearing  was  sim- 
plicity itself,  suggesting  neither  pride  nor 
humility,  but  a  beautiful  self-respect  and 
womanly  dignity.  To  be  a  mother  in 
Israel  has  from  of  old  been  a  title  to  lion- 
or;  and  Rachel,  in  the  midst  of  her  i)ov- 
erty,  felt  an  invisible  crown  of  maternity 
upon  her  brow. 

For  eigliteen  years  Rachel  lived  in 
l)eaceful  obscurity,  devoting  herself  to  the 


It  was  of  no 
the  rector  of 
nim  to  relax 
Equally  una- 
to   the   other 


education  of  her  sons.  Her  husband 
never  directly  censured  her  or  expressed 
his  disapproval  of  lier  teachings;  but  he 
summoned  to  his  aid  the  Rabbi,  who  was 
less  considerate,  and  denounced  with  all 
the  maledictions  of  the  Prophets  those 
who,  deluded  bj'  vain  ambition,  strayed 
beyond  the  fold  of  Israel. 

It  was  a  terrible  disappointment  to 
Rachel  when  lier  sons,  one  after  the 
other,  Avere  refu.sed  admis.sion  to  the 
gymnasium  which  was  to  fit  them  for 
the  university.  There  was  a  rule,  which 
was  enforced  or  not,  according  to  oflicial 
caprice,  limiting  the  number  of  Jewish 
pupils  which  might  be  accepted,  and  it 
pleased  the  authorities  in  this  case  to  in- 
clude David  and  Baruch  among  those 
\v]>o  had  to  be  debarred, 
use  that  she  called  upon 
the  school  and  implored 
the  rule  in  their  favor, 
vailing  were  her  appeals 
officials,  all  of  whom  advised  her  to  ap- 
prentice her  sons  to  their  father's  trade, 
and  not  foolishly  to  aspire  beyond  her 
station.  The  Rabbi,  too,  enforced  this  ad- 
vice with  awful  biblical  quotations,  and 
one  day  Judah  actually  summoned  cour- 
age to  carry  off  the  elder  boy  with  him 
to  the  shop.  She  had  long  foreseen  that 
this  world  have  to  come,  and  though  it 
grieved  her  deeply,  .she  did  not  dare  in- 
terfere. The  long-skirted  Jewish  caftan 
was  to  her  the  badge  of  the  servitude  of 
her  race,  and  it  cut  her  to  the  quick  to 
see  Baruch  arrayed  in  it  like  his  father, 
wearing  the  odious  side  curls,  and  uncon- 
sciously acquiring  the  stoop  and  the  walk 
of  the  Ghetto.  But  if  she  could  not  save 
Baruch  from  the  misery  of  ignorance,  toil, 
and  dreary  resignation  which  fell  to  the 
lot  of  the  Jewish  mechanic  in  Russia,  slie 
would  concentrate  all  her  energy  and  all 
her  hopes  upon  David.  She  read  until 
her  eyes  ached  and  her  head  swam,  but 
she  could  not  disguise  to  herself  the  fact 
that  she  made  but  slight  progress.  With 
Baruch  she  had  made  some  little  head- 
way, but  with  David  her  success  was 
far  from  encouraging.  He  wept  over 
Citsar  and  sulked  over  Nepos,  and  when 
it  came  to  Cicero  and  Sal  lust,  she  was 
herself  completely  at  sea,  and  could  otter 
him  no  assistance.  Only  in  arithmetic 
Avas  he  more  than  her  match.  ^He  could 
make  a  calculation  in  his  head  with  ex- 
traordinary rapidity,  and  he  cotild  ruu 
up  a  column  of  figures  with  a  sort  of  in- 


-'■I  /       J 


HARPER'S   XEW   MONTHLY   MAGAZINE 


Vol..  xcir 


MAJ{(  II,   I89« 


No.  1>L 


THB  I^ARREN  (gR^UNaS. 


^A&PAR    W.  WhiTNEV. 


IV— TO    THK   TIMUKKS    KIM.K. 


BEFORE  wo  left  tlie  Landing-  for  our 
bison-hunt,  Munn  and  I  had  decided 
to  make  another  attempt  under  Bushys 
giiidf  nee  in  case  we  failed  under  Jeremi's. 
But  by  the  time  we  were  back  at  Foi't 
Smith  fifteen  days  had  been  consumed  in- 
stead of  the  ])romised  six.  and  my  "  ex- 
])ress"had  returned  from  Fort  Resolu- 
tion. The  letter  he  brought  me  was  not 
exactly  clieering  after  our  depressing- 
hunt.  Gaudet  wrote  that  '"  the  Indians 
fear  entering-  the  Barrens  at  this  [w-nter] 
season  of  the  \'eai — that  they  take  their 
lives  in  hand  at  all  .seasons,  but  especial- 
ly now.  with  the  danger  of  freezing  add- 
ed to  that  of  starving  ;  that  he  doubted 
gaining  their  con.sent  to  accoinjiany  me; 
....  however,  he  had  sent  Beniah  word 
to  come  to  the  post  at  once," 

As  I  was  already  overdue  at  Resolu- 
tion, a  second  bison-hunt,  which  I  should 
have  liked,  was  out  of  tlie  question. 

Fort  Smith  is  the  most  inadequately 
provided  post  in  the  country,  and  has 
the  smallest  natural  supply,  for  there 
are  few  fish  in  the  river,  and.  as  a 
rule,  the  Indians   i)refer  "•starving""  on 

Copyrighl,  H9'!.  by  Harper  in  I   Hr.)lll,!r«.     All  riiflin  r-i-ri-»l. 


rabbits  tin;  women  snare  to  going-  back 
into  the  country  a  hundred  miles  or  so. 
where  moo.se  and  woodland  cai'ibou  are 
fairly  i)lentiful.  Only  "  Mc"s  "  success  in 
getting  a  moos<!  kept  us  all  from  half- 
rations  after  the  bison-hunt,  and  when  I 
))assed  through  on  my  way  bnck  to  civ- 
ilization I  fouml  his  children  ci-yiiig  of 
hunger.  Munn's  hard  luck,  too,  will 
convey  some  idea  of  the  uncertainty  of 
result  and  extent  of  endeavor  inciden- 
tal to  hunting.  Onc^  year  he  spent 
there,  nuiking  two  trips  to  the  liarrens 
for  muslc-ox.  two  after  bison,  and  his  skill 
and  experi'-nce  and  untold  hardships 
were  rewarded  by  but  a  single  musk- 
cow.  Pike  gave  two  yeai's  of  his  life  to 
the  country,  made  three  ti'ips  to  the  Bar- 
rens before  he  secured  the  musk-oxen  he 
desired,  ami  had  one  unsuccessful  bi.son- 
hunt. 

Twc-  days  aftei-  our  return  to  Fort 
Smith  I  started  for  Great  Slave  Lake. 
Tiu'  ilistaiK'c  from  Fort  Smith  to  Reso- 
lution is  ]fl4  miles  down  the  (ireat  Slav 
River,  but  i)ortiig-es  reduce  the  ))ossibli 
route  to  Ifi.")   to   170   miie.>.  which.  a>.  mv 


491 


HAKM'KirS    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


ankle  had  nearly  mended,  and  my  half- 
breed  j,^uidesandd()}rs  wereirood  iravelhM's. 
I  expected  to  do  in  four  days.  Hut  the  con 
tingencies  of  snow-shoe  travel  are  many. 
We  had  lianlly  <;••*•'  under  way  hefore  surh 
cramps  seized  the  calves  of  my  leys  that 
I  could  scarcely  mov(!.  I  sui)p(.sed  it 
merely  muscular  still'ness  caused  hy  my 
two  days'  inaction  at  hmith  after  the  hard 
day's  run  which  terminated  the  hison- 
liunt,  and  that  it  would  wear  otF.  so  I  set 
j;rimly  to  work  to  catch  the  duji'-train, 
which  was  jjfoinj;-  alony'  nt  a  lively  rate 
and  disappearinji' down  tin;  river. 

No  effort  of  mine,  however,  could 
(puckeii  my  <iait  heyoiid  asliutHin;^-  pain- 
ful hohhie,  aiul  I  did  not  overtake  the 
outfit  until  a  stop  was  made  for  dinner, 
fifteen  miles  further  on.  I  thoujiht  a 
rest  and  a  little  ruhbiny  would  rtdieve 
me,  hut  when  we  started  or.  ayain  tlu! 
cramps  spread  to  both  thijihs,  and  I  sim- 
ply could  not  move.  Bui  for  the  ))ain  I 
mi<,fht  have  thou<iht  my  lej^s  i)aralyzed. 
I  (•ijfnalled  Mercrede,  my  yuiile,  and  when 
i  had  draj^ged  myself  up  to  the  dogs  I 
climbed  on  to  the  sledge,  and  told  him  to 
go  ahead,  thinking  tlu^  sjjasm  would  pass 
off,  and  nu'anwhile  we  .should  not  lost; 
time  by  stopping.  Tlierc^  was  short  I'es- 
pite  in  this  direction,  however,  for  the 
dogs  could  m)t  haul  me  in  the  heavy  go- 
ing without  "  forcing,"  and  as  they  must 
l)e  .saved  at  all  hazards,  I  determined  on 
another  effort  at  walking,  and  failing,  to 
camp  and  doctor  my  muscles.  This  I 
made  Mercrede  understand  after  much 
difliculty,  and  then  he  went  on  and  I  tried 
to  follow.  I  was  in  no  better  condition 
for  travelling  than  before;  a  few  steps 
and  then  a  tumble,  followed  by  a  spell  of 
crawling;  another  attempt  at  walking, 
another  tum])le,  until  tinally  I  directed 
my  entire  energy  to  crawling  on  hands 
aiul  knees,  and  thus  I  reached  thecamj) 
^lercrede  had  made  .several  miles  below. 

Vigorous  and  continuous  application 
of  mustang  liniment  put  me  in  shape  for 
travel  the  iH!.\t  morning.  Exceedingly 
l)a,inful  travel,  but  tra.vel  none  the  less, 
which  was,  after  all,  the  main  considera- 
tion. Walking  was  bear;ible,  but  running 
set  every  leg  luu've  and  muscle  vibra- 
ting, and  I  tried  all  ])ossil)le  ways  of  mak- 
ing those  half-breeds  know  I  wished  them 
to  walk.  But  they  didn't  or  wouldn't 
understand,  and  there  was  nothing  left 
for  me  but  to  grit  my  teeth  and  stay  with 
tliein — which  I  did. 


It  was  afterwards  explained  to  me  at 
IJesoliition  why  they  had  maintained  such 
a  pace  despite  my  evident  suffering'.  It 
.seems  I  h;id  made  in  the  country  some 
renown  as  a  runner — a  case  of  honor  be 
ing  thrust  upon  nu)  for  I  cannot  se(^  that 
I  merited  it,  unless  the  Indians  deemed 
j)er.severanc(!  worthy  of  such  recognition. 
However,  I  gained  the  reputation  lu'ver 
theless,  and  it  travelled  ahead  of  me  from 
])ost  to  post.  Now  as  the  Indians  and  half- 
breeds  are  exccMnlingly  jealous  of  their  own 
rej)utation  as  runners,  and  probably  did 
not  fancy  a  white  Juan  even  unwilling- 
ly sharing  it,  tln^  result  was  that  every 
pair  of  guides  I  secui-ed  set  out  to  thor 
ouglily  lest  my  (|ualilications  for  the  name 
which  had  been  given  me.  As  T  got  fresh 
guides  and  dogs  at  each  Iliulso'.i  Bay  ])ost 
on  my  joui'iu'y,it  nujy  be  understood  I  was 
kept  busy.  Mercrede  and  his  companion 
were  the  first  two  that  had  found  me  h())\s 
de  combat,  so  to  say.  and  they  proceeded 
to  have  a  good  time  with  me.  Well,  they 
had  it.  At  first  I  would  bring  to  my  aid 
all  the  signs  and  Indian  words,  Cree  and 
Chi])ewyan,  I  knew,  in  a  serious  and  labo- 
rious effort  to  make  them  understand  how 
painful  it  was  lor  me  to  run.  And  they 
would  look  wise  and  solemn  and  nod  as- 
sent, and  then  start  out  and  go  as  hard  as 
ever. 

After  one  or  two  of  these  attempts  at 
fruitless  persuasion  I  developed  a  large 
and  righteous  anger,  which  was  somewhat 
relieved  by  a  cursing  that  exhausted  a  vo- 
cabulary of  wideand  highly  colored  range, 
and  which  the  Indians  did  not  understand 
— niore's  the  l)ity,  for  I  am  sure  the  brill- 
iant and  contrasting  effects  would  have 
appealed  to  their  picturesque  nature — and 
thereafter  they  had  not  the  satisfaction  of 
hearing  a  whimper,  nor  of  running  away 
from  me. 

Later  one  of  them  came  near  ending 
my  misery  once  and  for  all  time  by  fell- 
ing a  tree,  which  crashed  into  the  snow 
not  six  inches  fi-om  where  I  was  stooping- 
tying  my  nuK'casin. 

On  the  (uorning  of  the  fourth  day  we 
<!ame  to  the  cabin  of  Carr  and  Duncan, 
the  only  two  white  tiappers  in  the  coun- 
try. It  was  a  joy  to  hear  English  again, 
and  a  comfoi-t  to  get  indoors  before  a  fire : 
and  wli(ui  I  left  they  liad  bi-aced  me  up 
mentally  ami  ))hysically  by  theii-  hearty 
welcome  ami  the  hea))ing  })lates  of  lynx 
meat  they  set  in  front  of  nu'.  and  which 
is    very    tender   and    savory,   and    tastes 


0  me  at 

lied  such 
•iiig.  It 
,ry  sonic 
louor  be- 

,  S(U>  tllilt 

di'ctJU'd 
)^''iiilion. 
II  never 
ine  from 
mid  half- 
Ikmi'owu 
lably  did 
uwilling'- 
at  every 

to  tlior 
Uie  name 
o-ot  fresh 
Bay  i)osl 
ood  I  was 
)mi)anion 

1  me  hoi'K 
)roceeded 
^^ell,  they 
Lo  my  aid 
Cree  and 
and  Uibo- 
;tand  how 
And  they 
u  nod  as- 
is  liard  as 

tempts  at 

1  a  large 

)nie\vliat 

sted  a  vo- 

ed  range. 

derstand 

the  brill- 

iild  liave 

are — and 

action  of 

ing  away 

ir  ending 
e  by  fell- 
tlie  snow 
stooping' 

1  day  we 
Duncan, 
the  coun- 
ish  again, 
oi'e  afire: 
ed  me  up 
'ir  hearty 
s  of  lynx 
nd  which 
ud    tastes 


iimnitiHHHitif. 


a  little  like  veal.  It  was  just  as 
well  that  I  (lid  eat  pleiiteousiy 
here,  for  one  of  my  stupid  Indians, 
when  repacking  the  sledge,  left 
out  our  small  sack  of  ])rovisioiis.  ! 

and  that  night, and  for  the  remain-  ' 

der  of  the  trip,  we  shared  .some 
wretched  dried  fisli  with  the  dogs. 

Tlie  last  half  of  the  .iourney  was  ex- 
ceedingly trying,  becau.st;  the  storms  vio- 
lently disputed  our  progress,  and  the  dogs 
were  fagged  by  the  ch'ptli  of  snowfall.  It 
was  on  one  of  these  last  hard  days  that, 
as  I  opened  my  note-book  in  the  morn- 
ing to  write  of  the  d;iy  before,  I  was  re- 
minded of  a,  little  dinner  given  me  just 
on  the  eve  of  my  departure  from  New 
York,  at  which  live  of  my  nearest  friends 
had  ,sat,  and  pledged  my  health  and  suc- 
cess, and  promi.sed  to  drink  to  it  again  on 
Washington's  birthday.  And  as  I  wrote 
February  l:i'id  iu  my  journal  that  morn- 
ing, that  delightfnl  (ivening  seemed  so 
long  ago:  but  with  the  storm  howling 
about  me  I  dralik  their  healths  in  strong 
est  tea,  and  felt  sure  they  too  had  drunk 
mine. 

It  was  one  o'clock  of  the  tifth  day  when 
we  came  to  the  end  of  the  (about)  twenty- 
mile  portage  which  connects  Great  Slave 
River  vrith  Great  Slave  Lake,  and  carries 
the  voycKjeio'  over  the  last  stage  of  his 
journey  from  Fort  Smith  to  ResolutiiJii. 
Tlie  wind  had  subsided  and  the  atmos- 
phere cleared  of  Hying  snow  as  we  toiled 
through  the  heavy  going  to  liie  timber's 
edge,  flanked  on  either  side  by  clo.sely 
growing  and  winter-bemaiitled  i)ine;  and 
when  we  finally  reached  the  open,  and 
the  great  frozen  lake  lay  before  us.  the 
dogs  were  stopped  for  a  spell,  while  the 
Indians  got  out  their  best  mittens,  relaced 
their  moccasins,  and  lighted  ))ipes. 

These  preparations  were  always  an  in- 


fallible ami,  for  most  of  the  time, 
the  only  sign  on  the  journey  from 
r^a  IJiclie  to  Kesolution  by  wliicii 
I  knew  we  were  approaching  our 
destination.  On  the  two  occasions 
when  s|)eech  with  my  guides  w:is 
vfissible,  the  only  inrornialion  I 
( .)uld  elicit  in  reply  to  my  iiitpiiries 
concerning  distance  was  that  it  was  eillier 
a  little  or  a  big  ""iiiece  "  off.  .\s  a  ""  lit- 
tle piece  '  meant  anywhere  from  live 
miles  tf>  .1  day  or  a  day  and  a  liaU's  travel, 
and  a  "  l)ig  i)iece  "'  from  a  day  and  a  half 
to  tlire»!  or  four  or  even  more  da.vs.  I  was 
never  able,  until  I.  l(;ariied  to  interpret 
the  signs  of  changing  ('ostume.  to  form 
any  idea  of  our  relative  location.  When 
arriving  at  or  departing  from  a  post  tin- 
Indians  invariably  elotlie  themselves  in 
their  most  highly  ornamented  moccasins, 
mittens,  and  leggings,  and  wliiji  the  dogs 
into  their  fastest  jiace.  J'Jii  route,  how- 
ever, these  gay  trajipings  are  exchanged 
for  mor»;  sombre  ones.  (Jii  tlit^  morning 
of  the  trip's  last  day  the  decorated  leg- 
gings are  again  put  on,  l)Ut  the  best  moc- 
casins are  not  brought  fcnlli  unle.^s  the 
post  is  to  Ije  reached  before  noon,  and  the 
mittens  not  before  the  journey  is  within 
a  few  hours  of  its  end,  sometimes  not 
until  the  last  pipe- — which  is  lilled  and 
lighted  during  a  day's  running  altout 
once  every  hour  and  a  half — as  was  the 
case  when  we  halted  for  our  lirst  look  at 
Great  Slave  Lake,  whose  glistening  sur- 
face stretched  away  to  the  w<?st  far  l)e- 
yond  the  r;inge  of  sight. 

It  is  always  customai'V.  too,  to  stop  for 
a  l)ipe  wiien  tlie.v  coiim-  within  sight  of 
the  journey's  end — no  matter  if  it  is  only 
a  couple  of  miles  away  and  everybody 
and  the  dogs  are'  faint  with  hunger  and 
worn  with  fatigue.  They  ;ne  true  to  the 
philosoidiy  that  deems  anticipation  better 


496 


IIARI'KKS    XKW    MONTIIIA'    MAGAZINE. 


MAP    SHdWlNO    MR     WHITXEV  S    ROUTE 


than  vcalizutioii.      Aiul   so  uc   stood  and     \vl 


and  a  quailt-r  later, 
(iaiulet  welconu'd 
iiic  uitli  cliaractcr 
istic  iS'ortli  -  hnid 
lieartinesH.niid  tlicro 
was  a  coiniviolion 
aiiioii;^  tlic  natives; 
forlliot'oMiinyot'tlit' 
'"wliitc  liKUtcf"  had 
I)('(Mi  licraldcd,  and 
tlioy  wiM'o  curious  to 
see  what  /naiUH-r  of 
man  was  this  who 
liad  penetrated  the 
stiipendoiisNorth  at 
its  most  I'orhiddiny 
season.  But  I  was 
too  iiappy  in  tlie  ae- 
coniplislmientof  my 
trip  to  recite  details. 
andtooworji  to  give 
heed  to  llie  whisper- 
in<rsand  jostliny.s  of 
tlio  men,  women, 
and  cliildi-en  that 
gathered  about  and 
followed  me  to  the 
door  of  Ciaudet'.s 
cabin. 

The  boiling-  of  tlie 
teakettle  always  fol- 
lows swiftly  upon 
the  arrival  of  a  v<> 
yatjeur  in  this  deso- 
late but  hospital)le 
land,  and  it  was  not 
many  minutes  be- 
fore Gaudet's  sistei-. 
who  i)roved  a  min- 
istering: angel  dur- 
ing my  stay  at  Reso- 
lution, had  poui-ed 
a  cup  of  tea  and 
])laced  before  me 
some  caribou  ribs, 
the  lirst  fresh  meat  I 
bad  seen  since  leav- 
ing La  Biche.  No 
lere  in  my  experience  have  I  witnessed 


looked  at  Ke.solution  and  its  little  line  of  more  disinterested  hosj)ilality  tlian  in  this 

cabins  straggling  along  the  lake's  north-  gi'eat  lone  land.      From  north  to  south — 

ern  shoi-e.  six  miles  away. while  ]\ler(M'ede  fi'om  llud.son  liay  C()ni))any  officer  to  the 

elai)orately    beaded  poorest    Indian   hunter,  among  the    half- 

ned  with   thankful-  l)ree(ls  at  the  ])ost  or  the  Indians   in    the 


arrav( 


•d    1 


innse 


in 
wan 


that    the    linal 


tl 


wooils,  m  llie  Jog  cal)ins  oi'  in  tlie  can 


th 


bou- 


nioccasins.  ami 
iiess    too   deep    for   words 

stage  of  myflDO  miles  was  com})leted.  ami  skin  tepees — the  entrance  of  aguest  is  iii- 

the  out  lilting  post  for  the  Barren  Grounds  variably  the  signal  for  stirring  up  the  fire 

in  view  at  last.  and  putting  on  the  teakettle:  or.  if  there 

When  we  arrived  at  the  fort,  an  hour  is  no  tea,  which   is  more   frequently  the 


ON    SNOW  SHOES   TO    TIIK    HAHKHN    (JHoLNhS. 


4nr 


Iter  luU;r, 
\v  til  coined 

I'liai'lK'tCM*- 

>i-tli  -  liCid 
,;iiid  llicic 
>iiM>i(>tioii 

I'  llJtiivcs; 
liiiyoftlic 
ntcr" had 
lilcd,  and 

(•Ul■i()U^  Id 

iiaiiiH'r  of 
tliis  wIm) 
rated  tin- 
sNoilliat 
iii'hiddiiiy 
Jut  1  was 
in  the  ac- 
lentof  niy 
Ic  details. 
rn  toyive 
'  wliisper- 
i.stlin<>'.s  of 
women, 
ron  that 
ibout  and 
ne  to  the 
Gaiulet's 

ing-  of  till- 
hvays  fol- 
tly  upon 
1  of  a  ro 
this  deso- 
lospitabU- 
it  was  not 
iiutes  be- 
L't's  sister, 
h1  a  niin- 
ngel  dnr- 
y  at  Keso- 
d  poui-ed 
tea  and 
'fore  me 
bou  i'il)s. 
;sh  meat  I 
ince  leav- 
'he.  No 
witnessed 
an  in  tliis 
n  south — 
cer  to  tin- 
tlie  liaif- 
ns  in  tlie 
s  earibou- 
uest  is  in- 
ip  the  fire 
r.  if  tliere 
lentlv  the 


oa»e  with   llie  Indians,  of  putliu'/a  piect  If   itne    is    iu«Nperien<'et'    in    rougliinir 

of  pical  on  to  boil  ;  ur.  if  there  i>  none,  of  life,    n'    laeks    deriMun,  and.  let     us    say. 

i»tl"erin(f  dried  meat  or  lisli.oi'lhe  liest  of  heart lessnes.s  to  nay  "  no."  Ibis  eounlry  is 

what;'ver  thei'e  may  l)e.  im  place  t'or  him.  for  more  per>islent  and 

T'.ie  successful  hunter  pays  anipli!  trib-  skilled    bej^yars    are   probalily   not    tu  b«i 

Mte  t«)  his  skill.      While  ihc!    meat  lasts  fouml  anywhere.      I  was  annoyed  a  yreat 

.'lis  lodge  is  never  cleared  of  the  less  for  deal  at  lirst  fm    the  I'caxin  that   I'ike  had 


"SPELI.INIi"  TIIK    I)()(iS. 


tunate.  and  the  squaw  is  never  done  cook- 
ing, and  feeding  the  half -starved  that 
S(iuat  about  the  lire  in  ever-cluinging  but 
never-diminisliing  circles.  I  marvelled 
at  this  lavish  hospitality  while  living 
with  the  Indians,  for  it  was  never  at  any 
lime  a  giving  out  of  plenty,  and  always 
meant  subse(iuent  want  for  the  entertain- 
ers. I  iiave  seen  every  bit  of  meat  put 
into  the  kettle  and  handed  around,  until 
the  last  scrap  was  eaten,  and  the  host  and 
myself  go  hungry  for  two  days  after- 
wards. When  we  were  making  our  way 
towards  the  Bari-en  (tI'ouikIs  I  saw  an 
Indian  of  our  party,  who  1  knew  had  not 
eaten  meat  for  two  days,  bring  forth  a 
bone  saved  from  the  dog  feed,  handle 
■Jt  almost  fondly  before  the  fire,  and  then 
divide  it  among  one  or  two  of  his  fellows. 


been  impi'ovident  of  his  provisions,  and  I 
suppox!  it  spread  abroad  in  the  land  tliat 
white  men  were  easy  to  "'  work."  S<) 
when  I  canu!  along  they  had  new  les.sons 
to  learn  Ijefore  we  "  understood  one  an- 
other." Personally  I  acknowledge  1  pi'e- 
fei-  the  Indians  to  the  half  -  l)reeds.  Of 
coui'se  I  met  splendid  exceptions.  notai)ly 
Gaudet  and  Spencei'.  Hudson  Bay  Com- 
pany oilicers,  and  three  of  the  company 
servants— Michael  Manderville,  the  inter- 
preter at  Resolution,  and  Francois  and 
William  I'ini,  at  Chipewyan,  of  wli(»m  I 
have  already  spoken;  i)Ut.  as  a  I'ule,  the 
half-breeds  are  less  toleral)le  than  the 
Indians.  And  that  is  saving  a  great 
deal.  It  is  a  (luestion  of  two  evils.  One 
would  repent  of  either  choice.  Both  in 
general  are  untrustworthy.  avaricious,and 


If 


4l»H 


IIAKI'KK'rt    NEW    MoNTrrr.V    MACSAZrXK. 


iniclninly,  l)nt  tlio  Imlf-brcod  is  in'an-r 
flic  white  iiKiii  ill  tln)  vifionsncss  of  liis 
liy|)o<Tisy.  Tlif  wliilc  Mood  in  liis  vriiis 
••nines  from  lo\v<'sl  str.iiiis,  junl  liiis  jrivt'ii 
liiin  tlin  (Mjiiiiinjf  of  a  lii>fii«'r  iiiti'llijrciii'c 
Avitlioiit  impiii-liiiy  till'  Im'IIci'  ntdilHilcs  of 
llif  more  <'ivili/,<'»l  |»rolol.v|M'.  Il  is  iiiiK'li 
<'nsi«>i'  for  il  civili/.i'd  iiiaii  to  hocoiiu!  sav 
.•ijj'«*  than  for  a  s;tvaji<'  to  hrconn'  civili/.t'd. 

IIow  I  slept  that  lirst  iiiu'lit  of  my  ar 
rival  at  Hesoliitioii  !  Tlie  eomfoit  of  a 
full  stomach,  the  satisfaction  of  lieinji-  at 
the  scene  of  l)attle,  so  to  s|ieai<.  were 
soothing  hoyoiid  exi)rcssion.  At  any 
time,  no  matter  how  lon^r  hence,  I  am 
sure  if  (»ver  I  sit  l)acl<  in  my  chair  and 
reih'ct  upon  tlie  ])eriod  of  utmost  com 
plarency  in  my  i>ast  life,  my  two  weoUs 
at  K'esolution  will  he  immediat(dy  re- 
called. My  hed  was  the  hoard  lloor:  the 
siihslaiice  of  my  daily  fare,  caril)on  meat, 
tea.  and  hi-ead  ;  my  daily  occupation,  run 
nin;;  from  ten  to  fifteen  miles  to  keep  in 
<'ondition:  the  at mosi)liere,  arctic:  not  a 
iiird  note  to  hrealc  the  silence  of  the 
woods,  nor  a  hit  of  jn'ctty  scenery  to  re- 
lieve the  monotony  of  the  jyreat  desert  of 
snow;  hnt  I  was  no  lon<;i'r  jaded  in  hody 
and  mind;  there  was  no  hiinjrer:  I  was  in 
maynilicent  ])liysical  condition,  and  just 
at  the  door  of  the  d(>solate  Avaste  which 
Avas  to  open  for  a  successful  venture  or 
<'lose  ii])on  me  forever. 

It  was  well  J  had  not  delayed  my  de- 
parture fr(»m  Fort  Smith,  nor  <;(tne  witli 
IMiinn  for  the  second  try  at  i)is()n,  foi* 
(iaudet  told  nie  tliat  my  non-ai)i)earance 
.so  lonj^  after  the  ajjpointed  day  had  con- 
vinced him  I  had  yielded  to  jicrsuasion. 
and  given  up  niv  intention  of  mukiny  an 
att(nn))t  to  jzet  into  the  Barren  Grounds 
until  the  later  and  usual  time.  TL'  said 
that  the  runner  he  had  sent  after  Beni 
ah  could  not  lind  him:  that  Bciiiah  was 
somewhere    in    the    woods    huntiny.  and 


a  "  yreat  chief"  (tlipse  Indiiins  ar«  cute 
diplomats) ;  that  no  one  had  ever  ventured 
into  the  It.'irieii  (iroiinds  at  that  season: 
hut  he  wouhl  come  into  thepoNt  to  talk 
the  niattei-  over  .seriously  so  soon  as  iie 
shot  eitoiiyh  meal  to  make  the  trip  of  six 
days  pos>ihle.  whi<'h  mean!  that  we  should 
see  him  in  from  eiyht  to  ten  days. 

Next  day  Mercrede  and  hisdoys  started 
lia<'k  for  Korl  Siiiit  h.  carry  iny  the  only 
letter  I  was  able  to  send  out  duriny  my 
six  months'  ahsence.  and  which  Muiin. 
who  intended  makiny  his  w.iy  to  Kdmon- 
ton  on  his  return  from  the  hison-hunt 
with  IliiNliy.  hatl  promised  me  to  cari'y. 

And  so  I  M'ltled  to  active  ))reparation  to 
he  in  readiness  on  ihe  arrival  of  iteniali, 
whom  I  was  determined  to  induce  to  niaku 
tlie  trip.  There  wei'<'  doys  and  an  inter- 
pr(>ter  and  a  driver  to  enyaye,  moccasins 
and  dutVel  and  mittens  and  strouds  t(» 
jtrovide.  and  a  heavy  caiihoii  fur  capote 
and  winler  carihou  rol»e  for  sleepiny  in  to 
secure.  Nohody  appeared  to  eiiler  upon 
the  task  with  much  zest,  and  every  one 
shook  his  head  and  warned  nu^  ayainst 
the  trip.  All  ayreed  that  it  was  an  im 
possible  undertak'iny.  and  (iaudet  used 
his  utmost  jH'rsuasion  to  induce  me  to  de- 
lay my  departure  until  the  usual  time  of 
the  nnisk-ox  hunt. 

The  Indians  time  tluiir  huntiiiy  trips  to 
the  Jiarren  (trounds  (they  never  yo  there 
except  after  musk-ox)  with  llie  movement 
of  tlie  carihou—/.  c.  the  early  summer, 
about  th(!  last  of  April  or  lirst  ])art  of 
;May,  when  the  cows  beyin  their  miyra- 
tiou  from  the  woods  to  the  Arctic  Ocean, 
where  the  calves  are  dropj)ed  in  .lune; 
and  in  tlic^  early  autumn,  September  and 
()ctol)(>r. 

('Mril)ou  are  absolutely  necessary  to  the 
})enetratioii  of  the  l^arren  Grounds,  be- 
cause of  the  im])ossil)ility  of  either  obtain- 
iny  a   sullicient  supply  of  ])rovisions  to 


the  heavy  snowfalls  had  made  I'ollowiny     last  out  the  trip,  or  carryiny  them  if  such 
his  tracks  imjiossilde:  but  the  i-unner  had     were  to  })e  had.      I'ike  made  one  hunt  in 


seen  some  Indians  who  were  likelv  to  meet     the  best  and  easiest 


y  iiy  malviny  a  ))re- 


J^Miiah  and  tell  him  he  was  wanted  ;\t  the     vious  tri])  into  the  Barrens  solely  for  the 
fort.      This  was  all  satisfactory  enouyh  so     purpose  of  killiny  and   each i ny  cai'iljou, 


far  as  it  went. but  il  left  me  in  doubt  as  t 


o     w 


hich  lessened  the  chances  of  starvation 


when  I  miyht  e.x))ect  to  yet  otF  for  musk-  on  his  next  attempt,  when,  in  addition  to 
ox,  The  second  day  after  my  arrival,  how-  the  cached  meat,  the  oppoi-tunity  of  add- 
<'ver.  an  Indian  came  in  with  a  note  from  iny  to  the  supply  was  otl'ered  by  the 
I'eniah.  written  in  the  hieroyly])hics  moviny  bands  of  caribou.  Yet  he  had  a 
which  the  priests  of  the  Oblates  Fathers  very  hard  time  of  it.  Munn  on  liis  sum- 
invented  when  lirst  tliev  bpyan  their  mis-  niev  trip  had  the  caribou  and  fish  in  the 


sionarv  work  in  tins  coiintrv 


numlierless  lakes;   on  his  autumn  ti'ip  he 
Beniah  said,  lirst  of  all.  he  heard  1  was    attempted  to  better  conditions  by  taking 


I 


BRNIAII    AND    DRY   OKKSK,  TWO    FAMOT'S    nnO-KIR    LEAIIRR8, 

From  H  pliot'^KrKjih  hy  Mr.  WliltTiej. 


along'  a  supply  of  poiimlcd  di-iiMl  iiicat, 
which  was  spocilily  exlunistcd,  iuid  ciiri- 
bou  hciiijf  scarce,  he  and  his  party  and 
their  dog's  had  a  starving  time  of  it  in- 
deed. 

Midsuninior  is  of  course  the  season  in 
which  one  may  visit  tlie  Barrens  with 
least  danger,  for  at  that  tim<^  you  travel 
by  canoe,  caribou  are  i)lentiful — if  you  are 
lucky  enough  to  (ind  them:  they  ai'e  very 
uncertain  in  their  movements  and  change- 
ful in  their  course  of  migration,  which 
may  one  year  be  a  hundred  miles  oast 
or  west  of  where  it  was  the  year  before^ 
tlie  thermometer  rarely  gets  below  freez 
ing-point  (tliough  you  are  persecuted  be- 
yond endurance  by  mosquitoesj.  and  tlie 
winds  luive  lost  much  of  their  fury.  But 
in  summer-time  the  niuslc-o.x  fur  is  not 
prime,  and  of  course  musk-ox  is  tlie 
only  excuse  for  visiting  the  man-for.saken 
place.  And  so  trips  are  conlined  to  the 
spring  and  autumn,  when  the  trials  are 
more  sever(\  but  tlie  reward  greater.  Tli<' 
Indians  go  in  parties  of  from  four  to  six — 
never  less  than  four,  because  they  could 
not  carry  sutHcient  wood  to  enable  them 
to  get  far  enough  into  the  Barrens  for 
reasonable  hope  of  getting  musk-ox;  and 
rarely  more  than  six,  because  by  the  time 
they  have  gone  as  far  as  six  sledges  of 
wood  will  permit,  they  have  had  all  the 


freezing  and  starving  they  can  stand,  even 
though  no  musk-ox  have  been  forth  com- 
ing. 

Many  parties  go  into  the  Barrens  and 
never  see  even  a  niusk-ox  track,  and 
many  moi-e  skirmish  along  tlie  edge,  fear- 
ful of  a  i)lunge  into  tlie  interior,  yet  hop- 
inj,  'or  the  sight  of  a  stray  ox.  Wood 
must  1)0  cai-ried.  not  for  warmth  nor  ne- 
cessarily to  cook  meat,  but  to  boil  tea:  for 
man  could  not  endure  the  fatigue  and 
cold  and  starvation  without  the  stimulus 
of  hot  tea  once  or  twice  a  day.  When 
the  sledges  are  loaded  with  the  requisite 
su))i)Iy  of  wood  and  the  sleeping- robes, 
there  is  no  room  left  for  provisions.  To 
take  more  sledges  would  mean  more 
men.  more  dogs,  more  moutlis  to  feed, 
with  no  added  prospect  of  feeding  them. 
Thus  it  is  that  no  attempt  is  made  to  carry 
in  provisions,  and  that  a  visit  to  the  home 
of  the  musk-ox  is  always  attended  by 
great  danger,  and  never  without  much 
suU'ering,  be  the  season  what  it  may. 
None  but  the  younger  and  hai-diost  and 
most  experienced  Indians  go  into  the 
Barrens,  and  to  be  a  musk-ox  hunter  is 
their  highest  concejition  of  courage  and 
skill  and  endurance. 

Bearing'  in  mind  these  conditions,  it 
may  be  imagined  with  what  disfavor  my 
proposed  visit  in  early  March  was  viewed. 


500 


HARPERS    NEW   MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


No  one  would  liire  luo  dogs,  assorting  I 
should  nevei'get  tlieiii  back  alive;  and  if 
Gaiidet  had  not  come  to  my  rescue  and 
let  nie  have  his  own  train,  I  fear  I  should 
have  been  cbliged  to  delay  my  hunt  un- 
til the  usuiii  time.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  kindness  of  Gaudet  and  his  sister— he 
helped  me  in  my  seai-ch  for  an  interpret- 
er and  dog-driver,  ami  in  my  stndies  of 
the  counti'y  and  people;  she  .saw  that  my 
moccasins  and  duffel  were  i)ropei'ly  work- 
ed, and  lierself  made  me  a  i)air  of  slip- 
pers of  unborn  musk-ox  hide,  to  be  worn 
next  the  skin,  fur  side  in; 
and  both  of  them  heaped  cu- 
rios upon  me  in  such  gen- 
erous profusion  that  I  grew 
afi-aid  of  expressing  admira- 
tion f(;r  anything,  lest  they 
give  it  to  Mie  forthwith. 

I  did  not  pro[)ose  to  have 
an^'  more  cramps  in  my  legs 
if  training  would  provide 
against  them.  I  knew  such 
a  condition  in  the  Barrens 
wouUl  put  an  end  to  all  liope 
of  musk-ox.  or  of  my  getting 
out  to  tell  how  I  didn't  shoot 
one.  So  aljout  every  after- 
]ioon  I  took  a  twelve  to  lif- 
teen  mile  run  on  Great  Slave 
Lake,and,  what  with  the  good 
meat  I  was  eating  three  times 
daily  and  this  exercise,  I  was 
so  "fit"'  wlien  I  started  for  the  Barrens 
that  no  Indians  ran  me  oW  my  legs,  as  I 
was  told  they  would  on  the  ti'ip  across 
the  lake.  On  one  of  the  ;ifternoons  I 
experienced  liow  suddenly  a  lake  storm 
gathers,  and  with  what  force  it  b>ir.sts 
upon  the  luckless  traveller.  Had  I  not 
fortunately  put  my  compass  in  my  pock- 
el  tluit  very  morning,  [  should  ))robably 
have  been  on  that  lake  yet,  for  the  snow 
whirled  around  me  at  such  a  pace  and 
in  such  quantities  as  to  darken  the  at- 
mosphere, and  the  wind  beat  upon  me 
witli  so  great  a  foi'ce  that,  bent  almost 
double,  I  could  barely  keep  moving.  I 
had  great  diHicnlty  in  reading  the  needle 
and  following  the  direction  it  indicat<'d; 
but  whei;  the  prospect  of  a  night  on  the 
lake  seemed  surest,  the  wind  that  was 
blowing  otf  shore  carried  the  evening 
tolling  of  the  mission  bell  to  mo,  and 
sweeter  sound  I  nevei*  listened  to  I 

Fort  Resolution  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant posts  in  the  country.  Though  it 
has  not  so  many  claims  to  disti)iction  as 


Musk     \  Hiiritint: 

knife  .-iiiii  Hiirrt-n 

Groilliil  A  XI-. 


Chipewyan.  its  natural  resources  for  food 
are  much  greater;  for  near  by  is  the  most 
productive  fishery  in  the  country;  the 
Dog-Rib  and  Yellow-Knife  Indians  gen- 
erally keep  it  supplied  with  caribou  meat 
in  winter,  and  geese  and  ducks  are  fairly 
))lentil'ul  in  spring.  Furthermore,  it  is 
the  only  post  that  secures  any  quantity 
of  the  country  luxury — grea.se  ;  though 
tlie  Indians  never  bring  in  marrow,  which 
is  a  vei-y  palatable  tidbit.  The  grease 
they  do  bring  in  is  the  fat  from  along  the 
back  and  around  the  joints  of  the  caribou, 
which  is  called  hard  gi-ease,  in  contradis- 
tinction to  the  marrow,  that  is  soft.  Both 
of  these  are  used  in  making  pemmican, 
which  is  made  of  dried  meat  pounded  into 
shreds  and  mixed  with  grease,  and  rolled 
into  balls  or  made  into  square  or  round 
slabs. 

Pemmican,  however,  is  a  i-are  article 
nowadays,  and  not  to  be  found  anywhere 
soutii  of  Resolution,  and  only  there  on 
oc(  asit)n.  This  is  chietly  because  caribou 
are  not  so  plentiful  as  they  were  formerly, 
and  the  Indians  keep  most  of  the  grease 
for  their  own  consumption.  Nor  do  the\' 
make  pemmican  to  any  great  extent, 
their  substitute  for  it  being  the  pounded 
meat,  which  is  carried  in  little  caribou- 
skin  bags  when  travelling,  and  eaten  with 
the  grease — a  pinch  of  pounded  meat  and 
a  bite  of  grease.  I  must  confess  that  a 
plate  of  i)ounded  dried  meat  and  several 
good-sized  lumi)s  of  clear  grease  were 
about  the  most  tempting  morsels  I  had 
set  before  me  at  any  time  on  my  trip. 
One  never  gets  enough  of  grease  in  the 
North-land;  it  is  eat(Mi  as  some  in  the 
civilized  world  consume  sugar;  in  fact, 
I  developed  a  craving  for  sweets  that 
even  grease  did  not  satisfy,  chietly,  I  sus- 
pect, because  the  supply  was  so  limited, 
and  somewhat  m)table  in  my  case  for  the 
reason  that  ordinarily  I  seldom  if  ever 
touch  sweets.  The  absence  of  bread  and 
vegetables,  and  the  excessive  cold,  un- 
doubtedly combine  to  excite  the  desire  for 
both  grease  and  sweets. 

Resolution,  next  to  Fort  Simpson,  is 
credited,  I  Ixdievo,  with  sending  out  the 
greatest  number  of  fur  ])acks;  but  how- 
ever that  may  he.  it  certainly  is  the  scene 
in  smnmer  of  the  largest  congregation 
of  Indians,  when  they  come  out  of  the 
woods,  pitch  their  lodges  on  the  lake 
..'  ore,  and  settle  down  to  trade  their  furs 
and  wori-y  Gaudet  into  giving  them  credit. 
Trading  with  an  Indian  is  no  trivial  mat- 


7: 


CI 

> 

H 

tr 

w 

> 


r 
c 
o 

n 


502 


HARPER'S    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


ter.  There  is  first  to  pet  liim  to  ])ut  a 
value  oil  his  fur,  and  then  to  convince 
liim  that  there  is  enough  slock  on  hand 
to  pay  liiin.  There  is  of  coui-se  no  money 
in  this  country,  a  "made  heaver"  skin 
being  tlie  standard  of  value  by  which  all 
trade  is  conducted  —  as,  for  example,  a 
marten  is  worth  from  two  to  three  bea- 
ver-skins, and  a  bear-))elt  about  twenty 
beaver  skins.  On  rough  calculation  the 
"made  beaver"  is  equal  to  about  fifty 
cents,  though  it  fluctuates  throughout  the 
country. 

"When  the  Indian  has  finally  agreed 
upon  a  ])ric(*  for  his  fur,  he  ])roce<'ds  at 
once  to  the  company  "store,"  and  then 
the  intricate  business  of  trading  against 
bis  credit  of  "  made  beaver  "  skins  begins. 
It  is  impossil)le  to  deal  with  more  than 
one  Indian  at  a  time,  and  so  they  are  taken 
into  the  "store"  singly,  and  tiic  door  is 
bolted,  and  life  immediately  becomes  a 
burden  to  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's 
oflicei'.  If  there  is  anything  in  the  stock 
that  has  not  been  overhauled  and  priced 
before  the  Indian  exhausts  his  credit,  it  is 
only  because  it  is  out  of  siglit.  I?iit  in 
a  way  he  is  a  satisfactory  sort  of  a  cus- 
tomer. He  is  iu>t  exacting  as  to  what  he 
gets,  so  long  as  he  gets  something;  he  may 
really  want  beads  or  diitrel,  but  if  there 
is  none  of  either  he  as  readily  takes  a  cop- 
])er  teakettle  or  a  knife.  It  is  quite  unim- 
portant that  he  may  actually  need  neither. 

lie  is  particular  on  one  point  only,  and 
that  is,  he  never  leaves  the  store  so  long 
as  he  has  a  "  nuule  beaver"  to  sjxMid,  and 
when  he  has  used  uj)  his  due  he  always 
makes  an  eloquent  ami  vigorous  api)eal 
for  gratuity  or  debt.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
these  Indians  are  most  considerately  and 
generously  treated  by  the  company:  they 
are  paid  a  good  price  foi'  their  fur,  and 
to  the  worthy,  and  many  times  the  un- 
worthy, are  often  given  both  debt  and 
gratuity.  TiuM'e  are  no  Indians  I  know 
of  that  are  better  treated,  and  few  as  well. 
Nor  have  I  ever  visited  a  country  where 
trade  com i)etition  operated  less  to  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  natives.  The  few  indepen- 
dent traders  that  have  worked  their  way 
into  this  North  country  have  don(>  little, 
so  far  as  I  could  see,  beyond  raising  the 
price  of  certain  kinds  of  fur  al)ove  its 
fair  marketable  vahn-.  which  in  some 
lines  has  necessitated  the  introduction  of 
an  inferior  quality  of  stuif  for  trade.  80 
that  the  Indian  has  really  been  the  loser. 

Although  several  hundred  Indians  bring 


their  fur  to  Resolution,  and  the  "census" 
of  the  ])ost  is  returned  as  about  300, 
as  at  Chipewyan.  the  actual  residence 
is  far  below  that  number,  in  fact,  sev- 
en families,  that  comprise  sixty  souls. 
Great  Slave  Lake  itself  is  one  of  the  lar- 
gest bodies  of  fresh  water  in  the  world,  be- 
ing 300  miles  long,  with  an  estimated  area 
of  from  11.200  to  15,000  square  miles. 
Great  Bear  Lalce  is  but  a  cou))le  of  thou- 
.sand  square  miles  smaller,  and  the  size  of 
both  may  be  judged  by  comparing  them 
with  Lake  Michigan,  which  has  20,000 
square  miles.  Fancy  Lake  Michigan  a 
solid  sheet  of  white,  its  shores  broken  by 
deep  bays,  and  sparsely  covered  witli 
smallish  pine,  and  everywhere  silence 
and  desolation  and  snow,  and  you  have 
•some  idea  of  Great  Slave  Lake  in  winter. 

AVith  the  first  Sunday  in  March  came 
the  anxiously  awaited  Beniah,  in  a  cari- 
ole.  as  befitting  a  hunter  of  liis  reputation, 
and  with  an  attendant,  also  riding,  as  be- 
came the  servant  of  so  powerful  a  lead- 
er. He  is  really  the  best  hunter  in  the 
country,  and  in  North-land  possessions — 
fur  and  dog.s — reckons  a  deal  more  than 
any  other  individual.  He  is  a  "leader  "  in 
his  tribe — Dog-Rib — in  so  far  as  being  the 
head  of  a  hunting  i)arty,  and  of  hringing 
in  the  largest  number  of  skins  to  the  com- 
pany. There  is  no  other  kind  of  "lead- 
ers" in  any  of  the  tribes  —  no  councils 
and  no  election  to  such  ])rominence  hy 
vote  or  hereditj'.  Leadership  is  a  sur- 
vival of  the  fittest,  and  he  who  gains  the 
distinction  earns  it. 

Beniah  is  much  respected  by  liis  peo- 
ple, and  is  altogether  a  very  superior  Ind- 
ian ;  short  in  stature,  probably  five  feet 
five  inches,  but  sturdy.  He  can  talk  long- 
er without  exhausting  a  subject  than  any 
man  I  ever  knew.  In  our  subsequent 
powwow  there  was  no  contingency  he  did 
not  foresee,  especially  if  it  was  to  operate 
adversely  to  him.  and  no  jiointof  an  agree- 
ment that  was  not  thoroughly  threshed 
out:  in  fact,  he  showed  a  logical  mind 
that  sometimes  became  lost  in  metaphors, 
but  pretty  often  had  the  right  end  of  the 
solution.  He  is  good-natured,  except  at 
such  time  as  he  considers  his  dignity  af- 
froiitcnl  by  those  dependent  on  his  bounty, 
and  somewhat  of  a  wag  too.  whose  most 
mirtli-iirovoking  sally  was  a  i-epeated  and 
crescendo  exclamation  of  ('(h)  (Dog -Rib 
for  hot)  when  it  was  hitterest  cold.  The 
greatest  tribute  I  can  pay  Beniah  is  to 
say  that  he  kept  his  word  with  me,  and 


Ox\    SNOW-SHOES   TO    THK    HARREN    GROUNDS. 


503 


that  is  so  rare  a  virtue  among  these  Ind- 
ians as  to  be  praise  enouj^h.  The  only 
thing  I  treasure  against  Jiini  is  liis  (hs- 
tressing  rendition  of  a  song  whicli  liad 
few  Avords  and  a  tune  that  wailed  for 
longer  and  shorter  periods  of  time  over 
three  treble  notes.  I  could  never  decide 
whether  it  was  a  song  of  joy  or  lamenta- 
tion, as  he  set  it  going  on  all  occasions 
before  we  reached  tlie  Barrens;  and  then 
he  subsided,  for  there  no  opportunity  of 
rejoicing  ottered,  and  no  chant,  be  it  ever 
so  dolorous,  could  liave  expressed  the 
depth  of  our  misery. 

There  was  much  mental  measuring  of 
one  another,  of  drinking  tea  and  smok- 
ing, on  the  day  after  Beniah's  arrival  at 
Resolution,  but  we  did  not  come  to  tlie 
business  of  my  venture  until  the  even- 
ing. Then  we  all  gathered  in  Gaudet's 
room  and  smoked  some  more,  and  talk- 
iH\  for  a  long  time  about  everything,  as 
is  usual  at  these  powwows,  except  the 
one  thing  in  which  we  were  both  most 
interested.  Finally  the  interpreter  told 
Beniali  I  wanted  him  to  go  with  me  to  tlie 
Barren  Gi'ounds,  and  did  not  wish  to  wait 
until  the  usual  time  of  hunting;  and  Be- 
niali forthwith  delivered  himself  of  quite 
a  speecii,  in  whicli  he  said  he  was  glad  to 
welcome  the  first  white  man  to  his  hunl- 
ing  counti'y,  especially  one  whom  he  heard 
was  a  "great  chief";  recited  the  danger 
of  the  Barren  Grounds;  the  impossibility 


of  getting  Indians  to  make  the  attempt  at 
such  a  season,  even  if  he  were  willing; 
explained  the  absence  of  lirewood,  the 
chances  of  freezing  or  starving  to  death; 
and.  in  fact,  told  otV  the  dillicultics  to  a 
length  for  whit;h  I  have  no  space  here. 

Now  I  liad  sized  up  the  situation  long 
before  Beniali  arrived  at  the  jiost.  and  1 
had  purposely  delayed  this  meeting  until 
I  had  looked  him  over  a  bit  in  the  day, 
during  the  smoking  and  tea  -  drinking, 
^ty  knowledge  of  the  Indian  charact"r  in 
general,  and  of  this  one  in  particular,  had 
decided  me  upon  a  course  of  diplomacy 
to  induce  him  to  go  with  me,  and  I  knew 
if  I  secured  him  that  he  would  insist  upon 
his  hunters  going,  if  only  that  misery  likes 
comj)any.  I  was  determined  to  get  into 
the  Barren  Grounds,  no  matter  what  its 
terrors.  Therefore  when  I  re])lied  to  Be- 
niali—through  the  interpreter,  of  course 
I  treated  all  the  dangers  as  a  matter  of 
course—  I  told  him  I  had  come  to  liim  be 
cause  his  skill  and  courage  were  liousc 
hold  words  in  the  greiit  world,  that  my 
one  aml)ition  had  l)een,  if  I  reached  the 
North,  to  hinit  musk-ox  Avitli  Beniali; 
that  I  had  been  travelling  from  my 
house,  which  was  far.  far  away,  by  the 
'"big  water."  for  many  suns,  and  that 
now,  being  here,  I  was  sure  so  iiisignili- 
cant  a  matter  as  hunger  or  cold  would 
not  deter  him  from  accomiianying  me.  1 
made  Beniah    feel  that  my  belief  in   his 


■IHK    LAST    WOOD  — LAVl.Vli    IN    A    Sl  IM'LV    K<1K    THK    HARHKNS. 

Fr'.iii  J  |.li"lrtt.ni|ili  l.v  Mr  Wliilney. 


W\ 


504 


HARPERS    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


;   si 


courage  was  uiibouiulcd.  T  told  liiiu  I 
knew  the  other  "leaders  "  would  of 
course  shrink  fi'oni  exposure,  hut  they 
were  as  "  chiidi-eu  "  to  him.  I  luiule  him 
understand  that  I  had  no  doni)t  of  his 
willingness  to  go  witli  me;  that  it  was 
merely  a  question  of  heaver -skins  he- 
tvveen  us.  and  I  was  ))repared  to  pay  him 
liberally.  I  placed  him  in  such  a  posi- 
tion that  by  refusing  to  go  with  me  lie 
tacitly  acknowledged  that  he  was  afraid, 
tliat  he  was  no  greater  than  the  other 
leaders  to  whom  I  had  referi-ed  as  chil- 
dren when  compared  with  him 

The  result  was  that  before  tlio  meeting 
clo.sed  it,  was  midnight.  l)nt  Beniali  had 
promised  me  to  go,  provided  he  could 
make  up  his  party,  and  we  wei-e  to  start 
next  day  for  his  lodge,  which  was  in  the 
woods  ..."Kit  three  days  east  of  Fort  Rae, 
and  six  days'  h-avel  north  from  Resolu- 
tion. 

The  little  post  of  Resolution  was  shaken 
to  its  foundation  next  day  when  it  learn- 
ed tliat  we  really  intended  starting,  and 
there  was  a  great  shaking  of  heads,  aiul 
many  direful  prophecies  told  for  our  ben- 
efit. But  I  felt  sure  Beniah  would  not 
turn  tail,  since  he  had  given  me  his  word  ; 
and  as  for  myself,  I  had  been  having  I'o- 
tliing  but  discouragement  since  first  I  set 
out.  At  noon  my  sledge  was  dragged 
into  the  post,  and  packed  with  my  outiit, 
which  consisted  of  a  winter  caribou-skin 
robe,  lined  with  a  pair  of  4-point  H.B.C. 
blankets,  and 'made  into  a  bag  (which  I 
subsequently  ripped  open  :  the  popular 
supposition  that  a  bag  is  best  is  faulty; 
you  can  sleep  much  warmer  in  the  un- 
sewed  robes,  b  cause  yon  can  roll  them 
about  you  more  snugly),  one  heavy  cari- 
bou-.;kin  capote,  one  cloth  capott.  one 
sweater,  two  pairs  of 
mittens,  one  pair  noo^e- 
skin  gloves,  one  pair  leg- 
gings, three  silk  hand- 
kerchiefs,eight  ])air  moc- 
casins, eight  pair  duH^'el 
socks,  one  coi)))er  tea- 
kettle, one  cup,  my  rifle 
and  hunting-knife,  com- 
pass, camera,  thermom- 
eter, ten  pounds  of  tea, 
twelve  pounds  of  tobac- 
co, ten  pounds  of  flour, 
and  ten  balls  of  pemnii- 
can  (provisions  I  intend- 
ed to  cache  at  the  last 
wood,  wliere,  if  W3  suc- 


ceeded in  getting  l)ack. 
I  know  we  should  ar- 
rive in  a  starving  con- 
dition), two  bottles  of 
my  old  friend  nuistang 
liniment,  a  ))int  of 
brandy  I  had  carried 
from  Hamilton,  and 
the  antiseptic  lozenges 
and  bandages,  and  io- 
doform, in  case  it  lie- 
came  necessary  to  play 
surgeon  for  one  of  the 
party  or  myself. 

We  were  ready  to  start  at  three,  and  I 
was  waiting  for  my  dog  driver  and  in- 
terpreter, when  word  came  that  he  liad 
backed  out,  and  Gaudet  renewed  his  ef- 
forts to  dissuade  me  from  the  trij).  But 
I  liad  not  come  so  far  to  be  daunted  by  so 
inconsiderable  a  thing  as  deprivation  of 
speech  or  driving  my  own  dogs,  and  I 
motioned  Beniah  to  move  on.  A:id  now 
tliere  was  a  hand-shaking-  that  seemed  to 
have  no  ending,  for  every  one  pressed 
upon  me  closely,  and  grasped  my  hand 
solemnly  and  in  silence.  It  was  rather 
a  funereal  leave-taking.  There  is  a  little 
l)ortage  of  about  a  mile  that  leads  out 
froi.i  Resolution  to  the  west  on  to  Great 
Slave  Lake,  and  Gaudet  ran  along  with 
me  over  this;  'ind  as  he  ran,  told  me  the 
names  ol  the  dogs:  Foro  (the  foregoer), 
Finnette,  Flossie,  and  Blucher  (the  steer 
dog).  And  then  we  came  to  the  lake,  and 
halted  for  a  last  goodby.  Kind-hearted 
Gaudet  seemed  jnuch  depi'es.sed ;  and  as 
for  me — well,  at  any  rate,  I  was  started, 
and  if  fate  ruled  that  T  never  came  back, 
my  place  would  bo  (iiled,  and  the  ^^orld 
roll  on  as  usu^*!;  so,  with  a  heart  for  any 
fate,  I  called  out  in-a-arche  to  Foro,  and 
the  journey  to  the  Bari'ens  was  begun  in 
earnest. 

I  had  no  time  for  meditation,  for  my 
work  was  cut  out  from  the  start.  Beniah 
and  his  Indian  were  riding  in  carioles, 
and  swinging  along  at  a  clipping  gait; 
and  though  my  load  was  light,  and  my 
dogs  better  than  theirs,  I  did  not  ride, 
because  I  wished  to  save  them  as  much  as 
])ossil)le.  So  Beniah  sped  on  ahead,  and 
I  followed  on  behind,  going  easily,  for 
my  training  had  nuule  me  very  fit.  And 
I  had  learned  enough,  too,  to  keep  on 
my  snow-shoes,  though  the  lake  would 
havo  permitted  going  without.  Running 
on  ice  without  snow-shoes  has  the  same 
effect  on  leg   muscles  as  an   unyielding 


ox   SNOW-SHOES   TO   THE   BARREN   GROUNDS. 


505 


armory  floor  after  a  cinder  track.  After 
four  liours  we  came  that  niylit  to  Sto- 
ny Island,  twenty -two  miles  from  Res- 
olution, wliere  we  camped,  and  whose 
only  interest  for  me  lay  in  the  fact  that 
here,  seventy-five  years  before.  Sir  John 
Franklin  had  breakfasted  on  the  trip 
which  closed  so  disastrously  for  his  party. 
We  slept  in  a  tiny  cabin  with  thirteei" 
otliers,  men,  women,  and  children,  and 
I  appreciated  for  the  first  time  in  what 
filth  human  beings  will  wallow. 

Next  morning  several  Indians  joined 
lis,  and  we  put  in  a  long-  hard  day  on 
tlie  lake,  out  of  sight  of  the  shore  most 
of  the  time,  I  running',  ami  all  the  Ind- 
ians in  carioles.     About  4.30  we  came 
to  a  point  where  the  Indians  hauling 
meat  to  Resolution  had  made  ;i  cache, 
iind  here  we   halted,  and   a  lire   was 
lighted.      I  shall  never  forget  my  at- 
tempts to  learn  how  nuich  farther  on 
we  were  going  that  night.      I  can  see 
myself  now  sitting  on  the  rocks,  setting 
up  miniature  lodges  in  the  snow  with 
little  twigs,  and  using  my  few  Dog-Rib 
words,  co}i  (fire),  ethar  (farj,  supple- 
mented with  numerous  gestures,  to  ascer- 
tain if  the  lodge  lire  was  to  be  far  away. 
My  efforts  created  much  amusement,  but 
drew  no  information,  and  I  realized  how 
very    much    alone   I    was    indeed.      Nor 
shall  I  forget  my  amazement  and  my  re- 
lief  at   seeing   another  fire    lighted   and 
camp    made    for   the    night   not   twenty 
yards  from  the  fii'st  where  we  had  eaten. 

If  there  is  one  thing  these  Indians  know 
liow  to  do  it  is  to  build  a  roaring  fire 
where  wood  is  plentiful ;  first  of  all,  pine 
brush  is  cut  down  and  laid  about  three 
feet  high  in  a  semicircle,  on  top  of  which 
the  sledges  are  lifted  to  keep  them  from 
the  voracious  dogs.  The  opening  of  the 
semicircle  is  piled  high  with  wood,  and 
when  lighted  throws  out  warmth  enough 
to  keej)  you  comfortable  so  long  as  it 
lasts,  even  with  the  mercury  at  its  lowest. 
About  noon  the  ne.xt  day  we  left  the  lake, 
striking  nortii,  and  for  three  days,  start- 
ing at  six  and  going  until  eight  and  nine 
at  night,  we  travelled  across  a  rough 
country,  broken  up  by  ridges  and  filled 
with  lakes— most  of  the  ridges  bare  of  all 
timber,  and  the  (>.;ly  trees  dwarfed.  All 
this  time  I  had  htm  running  and  the 
Indians  riding,  and  I  was  not  sorry  when 
on  the  night  of  tlie  third  day  we  i-eached 
Beniah's  camp,  which  proved  to  be  quite 
the  bijrgest  settlement  I  luid  seen,  for  these 


Indians  roajn  Jibout  in  small  parties  of 
one  or  two  lodges.  Only  a  few  conse- 
quential leadei-s  like  Beniah  have  a  fixed 
habitation,  and  then  it  is  only  used  in 
summer,  when  the  fishing  is  going  for- 
wai'd. 

Here,  while  Beniah  was  explaining  my 
mission  and  making  up  his  j)arty.  1  |)ul 
in  three  very  uncomfortable  days.    To  say 


THK  Indian's  tool  kit — axe,  crooked  knikk 

(HO.ME-MAnE),  AND    KILE. 


that  I  was  an  object  of  curiosity  would  be 
putting  it  mildly;  I  was  indeed  a  stranger 
in  a  strange  land.  The  men  examined 
over  and  again  every  article  I  possessed : 
the  women  stared  me  out  of  countenance : 
the  mothers  used  me  as  a  bugaboo  t() 
hush  their  crying  babies:  and  the  dogs 
crowded  about  me  so  tlireateningly  that 
I  never  ventured  outside  the  lodge  with- 
out my  whip.  I  was  the  fir.st  white  man 
they  had  .seen,  and  one  and  all  made  the 
most  of  their  opportunity.  I  was  on  ex- 
hibition with  a  vengeance,  only,  unlike 
other  freaks.  I  had  no  hours;  the  show 
opened  when  I  arose  in  the  morning,  and 
was  still  on  when  I  rolled  up  in  my 
blankets  at  night.  Aiul  I,  on  my  jiart, 
made  most  careful  scrutiny  of  the  curious 
surroundings  in  which  I  found  myself. 
We  were  camped  on  top  of  a  ridge  covered 
with  small  pines,  where  B(>niah  had  made 
his  last  stand  to  keep  up  with  the  caribou 
that  were  just  beginning  to  work  out  to 
the  edge  of  the  woods.  There  were  three 
lodges,  all  full,  and,  .so  long  as  I  remain- 
ed, the  occupants  of  the  other  two  spent 
the  greater  ])art  of  their  time  in  Beniah's. 
In  times  of  i)rosperity  these  Indian 
tepees  are  by  no  means  unsightly.  They 
are  of  caribou-skin  stretched  around  and  to 
within  al)out  thi-ee  feet  of  the  top  of  poles, 
which  number  according  to  the  si/.e  of  the 


606 


HARPER'S    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


I 

I 


lodge.  The  sides  of  ilie  circle  are  banked 
up  with  snow  and  pine  l)nisli.  and,  inside, 
tlie  smallest  brusli  rnaices  a  clean-lookin<»' 
and  pleasantly  sniellinj;'  lloor.  The  open 
Ih'e  occupies  the  (tentre:  and  above  it, 
stretched  from  side  to  side  of  the  l()d<,fe. 
are  poles  upon  which  the  meat  is  placed 
to  thaw,  and  from  which  the  kettles  art; 
suspended. 

Around  this  lire  the  men  an<l  women 
sit,  tailor  fashion,  all  day,  jabbering,'  in- 
cessantly in  their  <,nittural  speech  that  is 
impossible  to  des(!ribe  in  writinj.r.  and  at 
nifflit  they  roll  up  in  their  blankets  and 
stretch  out  with  their  feet  at  the  very 
lire's  edge.  I  used  to  wonder  what  on 
earth  they  found  to  talk  .ibout,  for  the 
clatter  never  came  to  a  full  stop,  aiul 
wlien    I    lay  down   at   times,   trying    in 

slumber  to  escnpe 
the  din,  it  seemed  as 
though  it  must  all 
be  a  hideous  dream. 
But  any  such  illu- 
sion was  speedily 
<lispelled  by  the 
yelping  of  a  dog 
that  h;ul  worked  its 
way  into  the  lodge, 
and  was  being 
clubbed  until  it 
worked  its  way  out 
iigaiii. 

Domestic  econom- 
ics are  a  dead  letter 
in  the  Indian  household.  There  is  no 
place  for  any  i)articular  thing,  and  no- 
thing is  ever  in  any  particular  place.  The 
back  part  of  the  lodge,  where  it  is  too  cold 
tositeven  when  the  tire  blazes  highest. ap- 
pears to  be  the  general  store-room.  Ev- 
erything not  in  inmiediate  use  is  thrown 
there  in  indiscriminate  confusion.  If  the 
squaw  has  finished  stripping  a  cai'ibou  leg 
of  Its  meat,  she  tosses  the  bone  over  her 
shoulder  into  the  unknown  behind  her; 
if  she  has  completed  the  lacing  of  a  snow- 
slioe,  it  is  served  similarly;  the  Indian 
hurls  his  knife  there  when  he  is  througii 
with  it,  anil  the  children  do  the  same  with 
the  bones  or  intestines  or  bits  of  meat 
they  may  have  tilched  from  the  feasting, 
in  which  they  never  share.  And  when 
there  is  a  demand  for  any  article,  such  an 
overhauling  ensues  as  would  put  to  shame 
a  May  -  day  house -cleaning.  Children 
are  not  much  in  evidence  in  the  Indian 
household.  They  rarely  cry,  for  experi- 
ence has  taught  them  tiiat  such  outward 


NOllTtlWKST   S(l(  K    "i? 
DIIFFKI.. 


expression  of  grief  or  alarm  or  hurt  meets 
with  much  personal  discomfort.  If  they 
are  in  the  moss-bag  age,  which  usually 
ends  at  two,  they  are  pu'  into  a  sort  of 
hammock  within  the  lodge  and  rocked 
at  a  terrifying  i)ace,  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  a  crooning  that  would  strike  ter- 
ror to  the  heart  of  any  cryijig  babe.  If 
they  are  old  enough  t )  toddle,  they  are 
turned  out  of  doors  to  tell  their  sorrows 
to  the  winds. 

The  Indian  has  no  i)atience  for  the 
little  solicitudes  of  life,  nor  for  its  fri- 
volities. His  amusements  are  few  and 
simple.  Outside  of  a  .something  that  re- 
.sendjles  that  ancient  pastime  of  "  button, 
button,  who  has  the  button?"  and  where 
the  penalty  is  a  jjiece  of  tobacco,  there 
are  no  games  to  speak  of.  The  dancing 
is  exceedingly  awkward  and  crude  —  a 
shutHing  about  in  a  circle,  varied  by  hop- 
])ing  up  and  down,  and  the  music  con- 
IiiuhI  to  the  monotony  of  the  single-head- 
ed drum,  or  mayliap  an  occasional  liddle 
picked  up  at  the  post,  winch  in  that  case 
.squeaks  through  a  medley  of  reels.  Their 
dearest  recreation  is  sleeping,  since  most 
of  their  lime  is  spent  in  procuring  food, 
and  the  balance  in  resting  fronj  the  toil 
required  to  obtain  it. 

The  day  after  my  arrival  Beniah  took 
up  seriously  the  question  of  getting  vol- 
unteers for  the  musk-ox  hunt.  At  least 
I  judged  so  from  the  gathering  of  the  men 
in  our  lodge,  the  long  and  earnest  confer- 
ence, and  the  displeased  looks  that  were 
every  now  and  again  cast  my  way.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  I  knew  ])racti- 
cally  nothing  of  the  language,  and  was 
dependent  on  signs.  My  Dog-Rib  vocab- 
ulary consisted  of  curve,  stop;  ecla  oulee. 
what  is  it  called?  ethar,  far;  con,  fire: 
ega,  hurry;  Iwt,  meat;  oole,  none;  ilia. 
no:  (7<,  yes;  too,  water;  ethen,  caribou: 
ejeri,  musk-ox  ;  cdzar,  cold ;  and  sla,  plen- 
ty— words  that  Gaudet  told  me  at  the  last 
minute,  when  niy  interpreter  backed  out. 
and  which  I  wrote  down  phonetically  just 
as  I  was  starting.  I  picked  up  a  few  others 
afterwards,  but  had  really  always  to  rely 
on  signs,  and  I  found  the  Indians  not  only 
dull  of  coniprehension,  although  they  or- 
dinarily learn  much  quicker  by  the  eye 
than  by  the  ear,  but  disinclined  to  under- 
stand me.  Tltey  seemed,  with  one  or  two 
exce])tiotis,  to  wi.sh  to  make  it  as  ditRcult 
for  ine  as  possible. 

Judging   by  appearances,  Beniah  was 
having   a   heated  time  of  it    persuading 


ON   SNOW-SHOES   TO   THE   BARREN   GROUNDS. 


507 


them  to  go  into  tlie  Burrens,  as  I  sup- 
posed he  would  havo,  and  the  storm  that 
had  blown  up,  and  tho  coid,  wliich  my 
thermometer  registered  as  46"  below,  did 
not  tend  to  increase  tlieir  liking  for  the 
venture.  But  I  was  convinced  that  Be- 
niah  W(Mtld  bring  it  about,  because  these 
Indians  could  not  all'ord  to  deny  him,  and 
he  would  not,  could  not,  go  without  them. 

It  was  a  lugubrious  day  that,  for  no 
meat  was  in  the  lodge,  a  hunter  had  been 
found  frozen  dead  at  his  traps,  .some  one 
had  died  in  the  adjoining  lodge,  and  there 
was  mourning  in  the  air.  My  first  intima- 
tion of  the  death  was  most  dreadful  femi- 
nine wailing,  .seconder  by  mournful  howl- 
ing of  the  dogs,  which  all  together  made 
such  distressing  bedlam  as  I  hope  never  to 
hear  again.  The  coHin  Avas  a  rude  slai) 
box  axe-hewn  from  the  i)ine,  bound  to- 
getlier  by  babiche,  and  suspended  from  a 
single  pole,  by  which  it  was  borne  as  a 
litter  on  the  shoulders  of  two  Indians, 
one  in  front  and  one  behind.  Following 
were  some  half-dozen  women,  all  chant 
ing  a  most  direful  dirge;  and  as  the  little 
procession  disappeared  over  the  ridge  the 
dogs  sat  on  their  haunches  on  top  of  tlie 
hill  and  whined  a  last  requiem  for  the 
poor  wretch,  who  would  nevermore  strug- 
gle for  life  in  the  white  desert. 

Next  day  I  knew  Beniali  had  succeeded 
in  organizing  a  party,  for  the  women  l>e- 
gan  relacing  snow-shoes  and  making  mit- 
tens, and  the  men  set  to  work  shaving 
down  pine  poles  into  extra  runners  for 
the  sledges.  The  Indian's  tool-kit  consists 
of  an  axe,  a  large  file,  and  a  "crooked 
knife,"  which  has  a  blade  made  from  a 
file,  a  bone  handle,  and  in  general  appear- 
ance looks  somewhat  like  a  farrier's  knife. 
It  is  an  implement  of  general  utility,  car- 
ried by  all,  and  exceedingly  deft  in  the 
hands  of  some.  The  original  of  tlie  dog- 
whip  handle  illustrated  in  an  earlier  pa- 
per, and  really  a  very  creditable  piece  of 
carving,  was  made  with  just  such  tools 
by  William  Flett,  a  Loucheux,  and  the 


A    mnsON    HAY    I'OMl'ANV 
Kill  "  I'ACK," 


interpreter  at  Fort  Smith.  When  tlicy 
go  after  musk-ox  ihey  add  a  huge  weaj)on 
with  a  bhide  nine  inches  long  and  one- 
eightli  of  an  inch  thick  (and  the  best 
shaped  point  for  skinning  I  ever  used), 
whicii  l)ecomes  at  once  hunting-knife  and 
Barren  Ground  axe — for  notliing  laiger 
for  cho|)ping  is  taken  or  required. 

As  the  men  toiled  away  at  tin*  i)in«' 
slabs,  slijiving  oil'  about  two  inches  for  a 
length  of  .seven  feet  with  their  crooked 
knives,  and  the  women  hured  snow-shoes. 
I  woiulered  if  I  had  ever  .seen  peo])le  do 
more  work  and  accomjdish  less.  If  there 
is  a  roundabout  way,  these  In  i'  '  ts  sc '< 
it  out;  a  straight  line  does  nol  appeal  to 
them  in  any  form.  They  always  begin 
at  the  wrong  eiul,  and  choose  the  longest 
way.  And  as  for  i)itching  camp,  a  white 
man  of  any  experience  who  could  not  do 
better  would  be  well  laughed  at  by  his 
iiunting  comjjanions.  Between  niakijig 
up  their  mind  as  to  the  precise  piece  of 
grouiul  on  which  to  pitch  it,  and  getting 
into  one  another's  way  while  doing  so, 
the  length  of  time  tliey  take  would  make 
any  man  of  roughing  experience  disgust 
ed.  F  'W  fervently  I  used  to  wish  for  ii 
connnand  of  their  language  to  give  a  fev, 
instructions,  and,  incidental ly. my  o])in ion 
of  them  individiuilly  and  collectively! 

And  all  the  time  they  kettp  up  an  in 
cessant  jabber,  or  stop   work  entirely  in 
the  heat  of  discussion.      Between  chatter 


OLD   FLINTLOCK   TRADED   TO   THE    INDIANS,   AND    MOOSK-SKIN    GUN-COAT. 


508 


HARPERS    NEW   MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


:t: 


;5 


ing  and,  in  the  lodge,  catcliing  vermin, 
witli  wliicli  the  women  and  children  es- 
pecially are  literallv  alive,  the  wonder  is 
they  ever  accomplish  anytliin<>'. 

How  gratified  I  was  when  on  the  third 
<lay  we  finally  left  tlie  women,  some  of 
the  vermin,  and  the  lodges,  and  started 
on  our  way  to  the  liarren  Grounds,  I 
shall  not  attempt  to  sa}'.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  the  starving  and  freezing  that  lay  be- 
fore me  were  little  less  to  be  dreaded  than 
the  filth  and  monotony  I  was  leaving  be- 
hind. Not  that  I  left  all  tlie  filth  or  ver- 
min behind,  for  my  seven  Indians  took 
along  a  gei crous  .«hare,  but,  at  any  late. 
I  was  "It  i.;  t'le  open,  instead  of  being 
sanUw  '  ••  between  women  and  chil- 
dren ti,  -  .aa  ■  me  crawl  only  to  look 
at  them. 

There  was  a  ve"  . olemn  leave-taking 
on  the  day  we  left  Beniah's  lodge.  Every 
man  embraced  and  ki.ssed  every  woman, 
the  men  shook  hands,  und  the  children 
sat  down  in  the  snow  and  stared,  and  as 
we  moved  off  the  dogs  left  behind  sent 
up  their  wolfish  chorus. 

Beniah  and  I  had  held  a  sign-talk  that 
morning,  and  I  nuide  out  that  there  was 
no  meat  i;i  the  lodge,  which  was  no  news, 
as  we  had  eaten  but  tea  and  grease  for 
two  days;  that  in  one  "sleej)."'  i.e.,  by 
to-morrow  morning,  we  should  be  where 
there  were  caribou  ;  stop  there  one  sleep, 
and  then  go  on  hw  ejeri ;  meanwhile  his 
con,  fire — i.e.,  house— would  be  moved  to 


the  toocho.  big  water.  /.  e.,  (.ireat  Sia%'e 
Lake,  because  here  where  we  were  it  was 
bef-uole,  no  meat.  I  understood  from  this 
that  his  wife  would  goto  the  lakes,  around 
which  the  Indians  always  settle  when  the 
deer  fail,  and  whei-e  she  Avould  await  our 
return,  sui)sisting  on  what  fish  could  be 
caught  under  the  ice  or  what  rabbits 
might  be  snared  in  tlie  woods. 

The  one  "  sieei)  "  did  not  bring  us  up  to 
the  caribou,  but  it  took  us  north  to  the 
lodge  of  another  Indian,  who  had  been 
more  fortunate  than  we.  Here  for  one 
day  we  feasted  and  the  Indians  slept, 
and  when  we  started  on  again  the  next 
morning  Beniah  signed  me  that  we  were 
now  off  for  musk-ox.  Another  day  of 
ti-avel  in  a  fearful  wind,  the  mei'cury  at 
47"  below,  over  rocky  ridges  and  through 
pine  that  was  growing  smaller  and  moie 
scattering  as  we  advanced,  and  at  night 
we  camped  on  the  shoi-e  of  King  Lake. 

The  next  morning  we  lingered  for  a 
couple  of  hours,  while  the  Indians  cut  and 
trimmed  lodge-poles  that  we  must  carry 
with  us.  And  as  1  climbed  to  the  top  of 
a  rock^'  ridge,  and.  viewed  the  desert  of 
treeless  snow  extending  far  into  the  hoi-i- 
zon  before  rae,  I  knew  we  had  come  to  the 
edge  of  the  timber,  and  that  the  Barren 
Grounds,  in  all  their  desolation,  lay  be- 
fore me.  And  I  thought,  as  I  stood  and 
gazed  into  the  cheerless  waste,  that  if 
death  marked  my  venture,  it  would  not 
be  a  hard  countrv  to  leave. 


CUTTI.VO    LOUGE-POLES    ON    THE    FDGE    OK    THE    TIMBER. 

From  a  pho(o(jra|ili  by  Mr.  Whitney, 


>7 


ON 

•Snow  Shoes- 

•TO -THE  • 

Barren  Grounds 


BY 


Caspar-W' Whitney- 


v.— MUSK-OX    AND   DESOLATIOX. 


TT7E  left  all  hopes  of  a  warniiiiff  (ire  on 
T  T  tlie  south  side  of  Kins'  T-iJike,  wiien 
we  laslied  the  newly  cut  lodg-e-poles  to 
our  sledges  and  took  up  our  northward 
way  tlirough  tlie  outlying  relics  of  tim- 
ber-land, which  the  Indians  aptly  call 
the  "Land  of  Little  Sticks."  Tiiere  is 
no  abrupt  ending  of  the  timber-line. 
For  a  day  or  two  before  reaching  King 
Lake  the  trees  are  growing  smaller  and 
more  scarce ;  as  you  draw  nearer  they 
stretch  away  like  irregular  lines  of  skir- 
mishers deployed  along  the  frontier  to  in- 
tercept further  encroachment  by  the  Bar- 
ren Grounds.  And  now  you  pa.ss  beyond 
these  sentries  and  travel  along  a  ridge 
which  makes  out  into  the  white  desert — 
a  long  wooded  jjeninsula  —  or  mayhap 
you  cross  a  lake  to  find  a  wooded  island 
on  the  other  side.  Gradually  —  imper- 
ceptibly almost  —  the  ])eninsulas  grow 
shorter  and  the  islands  smaller,  until 
finally  you  stand  on  the  shore  of  King 
Lake  and  look  north  into  desolation. 

Prol)ably  the  roughest  country  in  all 
the  North-land  is  tliit  going  down  to  the 
Barrens.  Nature  appears  to  have  made 
an  effort  to  stay  the  footsteps  of  the  wan- 
derer while  yet  there  is  opportunity  to 
turn  from  the  trials  that  awaif      .m   be- 


yond. Isolated  hills,  sharp  little  ridges, 
and  narrow  shallow  valleys,  running 
hither  and  thither,  all  rock-covered,  and 
every  now  and  again  a  lake,  go  to  make 
up  a  rugged  and  confused  whole.  One 
could  well  fancy  some  Titan  p!oughma)i 
hud  cross-sectioned  the  land  into  huge 
ridge  and  furrow,  stopping  here  and  there 
to  raise  a  mound,  and  sowing  all  with 
rocks  of  every  shajje  and  size.  It  looks 
forbidding,  and  it  is  a  great  deal  more  so 
than  it  appears. 

'Twas  over  such  going  I  had  my  first 
real  experience  in  dog-driving,  for  up  till 
now  there  had  been  little  handling  of  the 
sledge,  and  therein  lie  all  the  ditliculties 
of  the  art.  If  you  can  imagine  a  canoe 
pitching  in  .short  choppy  waves,  you  will 
gain  some  idea  of  the  action  of  a  lightly 
loaded  sledge  being  dragged  over  this 
ridge  and  furrow  and  rock.  Without 
guidance  the  sledge  would  soon  pound 
itself  to  pieces,  so  you  humor  and  coax 
it  through  tlie  furrows,  ease  it  around  or 
lift  it  over  tlie  rocks,  pull  with  the  dogs 
in  climbing  the  ridge,  and  pull  against 
them  in  going  down.  And  all  the  time, 
because  of  your  enforced  running  along- 
side the  head  of  the  sledge,  in  order  to  han- 
dle it  by  the  '"  tail-line,"  you  are  tripping 


718 


ILVltl'ERS    NEW    MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


over  rocks  yoti  raiinot  sot\  b('iii{;f  jmhuikmI 
in  l)etvv('en  others  yoii  ciiiiiioL  escape,  or 
blockiiiff  tlio  progress  of  tlic;  sledye  witli 
an  iinii  or  a  lej,',  or,  ot'teii  as  not,  willi 
your  liead. 

Tlic  Indians  left  me  to  woi'k  out  my 
own  salvation,  and  my  dopfs  added  dilli- 
culties  to  tli()S(!  nature  liad  already  lib- 
eriiliy  provided.  The  most  excitinj;:,  and 
withal  discomfortinfi:,  moments  I  had  wei'o 
in  ffoinj^  down  hill.  Whethei"  in  con- 
tempt for  my  inexperience,  or  misun- 
derstand in{.f  my  commands,  whenever  wo 
heffan  a  descent  and  I  callcnl  w-1'.-o-a. 
Foro,  th«^  fore^foer,  invarial)ly  broke  into 
a  run,  startinj,^  up  the  otluM"  doys,  and 
drajjfji^inf,''  after  them  mti,  han<jin<i^  to  the 
t.iil-line,  of  whicii  I  did  not  h>t  <;o,  ])e- 
cause  I  thoiijfht  it  just  as  well  tlie  do;?s 
learned  early  in  the  p^ame  that  they 
could  not  "shake"'  me.  And  .so  some- 
times I  went  down  hill  head-first,  at  oth- 
er times  feet-lirst;  but  the  speed  of  the 
dog^s  never  lessened  until  the  bottom  had 
been  reached,  except  when  I  brouglit  up 
against  a  rock,  stopping  them  short,  and 
nearly  dislocating:  my  arms  thei'oby. 

By-aiid-by  I  j^rew  skilful  enough  to 
stay  on  my  feet  once  in  a  while,  and  on 
such  occasions  a  rush  after  the  dogs  at 
top  speed  would  take  me  up  to  the  fore- 
goer  about  half-way  down  the  hill,  where 
I  fell  on  him  as  though  he  were  a  foot- 
ball rolling  back  of  the  line  from  a 
blocked  kick  and  I  was  after  a  touch- 
down. And  then  we  wore  rather  a 
mixed-up  lot,  I  and  the  dogs  and  the 
sledge  —  until  I  had  given  Foro  a  few 
samples  of  my  English  pronunciation. 

Poor  old  Foro!  how  miserable  he  made 
my  life  for  a  while  1  After  I  had  dropped 
on  him  half  a  dozen  times  in  the  middle 
of  a  wild  gallop  down  hill  he  began  to 
understand  my  w  h-o-a,  and  then  we  got 
on  better. 

And  what  a  lesson,  too,  in  snow-shoeing 
was  this  dog-driving  I  It  was  reasonable, 
I  suppose,  for  me  to  believe  my.self  some- 
what skilled  on  snow-shoes  by  the  time 
I  had  reached  Great  Slave  Lake.  But 
when  I  started  from  Beniah's  lodge  I 
discovered  there  was  much  to  learn.  No 
man  may  consider  himself  an  expert  on 
snow-shoes  until  he  has  driven  dogs  and 
handled  a  sledge  over  such  country  as 
that  approaching  the  "Land  of  Little 
Sticks"  —  even  the  heart-breaking  and 
shoe-tripping  muskeg  is  not  a  circum- 
stance to  it. 


Within  the  borders  of  tli(>  Land  of 
Little  Sticks  (lie  gt'ueral  character  of  the 
i'ountry  becomes  more  rolling.  The  rocks 
an^  always  in  evich-nce,  but  the  furrows 
have  broadened  to  valleys,  and  the  ridges 
lost  their  sharpness  and  gained  in  height. 
Still,  the  little  sharj)  ridges  and  furrows 
never  disappear  entirely.  One  day  you 
may  see  them  only  here  and  thei'e;  on 
anotliei"  probably  every  el(!V.ttion  will  re- 
veal them.  To  a  larger  or  sniallei'  extent 
they  are  scattered  through  all  that  part 
of  the  Barrens  I  travelled  over,  and  are 
the  most  lik<dy  nnisk-ox  grounds,  because 
of  the  moss  and  lichens  that  cling  to  the 
rocks,  and  are  the  easier  gathered.  The 
"little  sticks"  are  pine  or  juniper,  from 
three  to  eight  feet  high,  that  in  small 
])atches  are  scattered — I  do  not  know  how 
many  miles  apart,  but  I  can  give  an  idea 
by  saying  that  during  the  day  of  thirty- 
five  to  forty  miles' travel  on  the  course  we 
l)ursued  we  came  upon  probably  a  couple 
of  these  clumps  each  day  of  the  two  and  a 
lialf  we  spent  crossing  the  Land  of  Little 
Sticks.  P]ach  night  we  camped  Avhere  the 
bushes  grew  into  smallish  trees  and  cov- 
ered ])i'obably  half  an  acre.  But  be- 
tween these  patches  nothing  inllanmiable 
showed  above  the  snow — not  even  a  twig. 

As  we  worked  our  way  due  north,  trav- 
elling by  the  sun  when  it  shone,  as  Ind- 
ians always  do,  and  by  my  compass  when 
it  stormed,  as  it  mostly  did,  we  climbed 
to  the  top  of  the  highest  elevations  that 
lay  in  our  course  or  near  it,  and  while  we 
smoked  a  pipe,  viewed  the  forlorn  ))ano- 
rama  which,  when  the  storm  permitted, 
unrolled  before  us  so  repeatedly  and  mo- 
notonously. There  it  was,  always  the 
same,  unchangeable  and  unchanged  — 
glittering  snow,  ridge -encircled  lakes, 
rocky  mounds  and  basins,  and  far  away 
in  the  distance  a  small  black  speck,  per- 
haps—a wood  oasis  in  the  desert  of  snow. 

From  the  hour  of  leaving  our  lucky 
friend  in  the  woods,  two  days  before,  we 
had  eaten  no  meat.  We  had  kept  a  sharji 
though  unsuccessful  lookout  for  caribou. 
Beniah  had  produced  some  grease  from  a 
little  bag  he  carried,  and  another  Indian 
had  found  a  piece  of  frozen  caribou  intes- 
tine in  the  depths  of  his  sledge,  and  these, 
with  a  few  hitherto  undiscovered  bones, 
remains  of  dog-feed,  stayed  our  eight  stom- 
achs for  the  first  day's  travel  in  the  Land 
of  Little  Sticks.  We  had  taken  along  no 
supply  of  dried  meat  or  grease,  because 
caribou  signs  at  the  edge  of  timber  con- 


r- 


im.-, 


Jjwk^-M^iA^f 


/ 


A   PIPE    IN   THE   LANn   OF"    MTTI.K   STICKS. 

Kroiu  u  |iliutuKr»|>li  by  Mr.  Whlluiy. 


viiicetl  the  Indians  that  the  cows  had  Ijo- 
gun  their  nii^n-alion  to  tlie  North,  and  we 
shouUl  he  ahh;  to  kill  eiioii;j;li  for  the  dogs 
and  ourselves.  But  all  signs  fail  in  the 
Barren  Grounds.  The  carihou  may  have 
been  moving,  but  they  were  not  moving 
our  way. 

Throughout  that  second  day  scouts  were 
sent  to  the  east  and  west  searching  for 
carii)ou.  and  on  top  of  every  hill  in  our 
path  we  halted  and  hungrily  scianned  the 
uncomi>i'omising  wilderness  for  a  sight  of 
meat.  The  usual  chatter  of  the  Indians 
had  ceased.  In  silence,  and  against  a 
strong  head-wind,  we  plodded  all  day  long, 
and  when  in  the  gloaming  we  set  up  our 
h)dge  in  one  of  the  little  patches  of  pine, 
there  was  nothing  left  us  for  the  even- 
ing meal  but  tea  and  a  pipe. 

As  we  squatted  around  the  tire  await- 
ing the  melting  of  the  snow  in  the  tea- 
kettle, the  Indians  appeared  to  be  hold- 
ing a  consultation,  and  shortly  one  of 
them  left  the  circle  and  went  to  my 
sledge.  So  soon  as  he  began  unlacing 
the  wrapper  I  had  a  fairly  clear  idea  what 
he  was  after,  and  as  quickly  realized  that 
1  was  in  for  a  "scrap."  I  watched  the 
Indian,  however,  without  dissent,  and  all 
the  other  Indians  watched  me,  until  he 
had  uncovered  and  begun  opening  the 
bag  in  which  were  the  dozen  balls  of  i)em- 
iiiican  I  had  brought  from  Fort  Resolution. 
And  then  I  said,  '•Ilia'''  (no).  The  Ind- 
ian hesitated  in  his  foraging,  and  looked 
lirst  at  me.  probably  to  discover  if  I  was 
serious,  and  then  to  the  others,  for  en- 
couragement, I  suppose.  Evidently  he  got 
it;  at  leask  there  was  a  chorus  of  guttur- 
als, and  he  set  to  work  at  the  bag  again. 
And  now  I  rose  on  my  knees  and  called 


him  by  name  —  Seeyah  —  and  when  he 
pau.sed  and  lo(>k(>d  at  me,  I  added,  rather 
louder  and  more  earnestly,  "  Ilhi,  itlti.''' 
That  would  have  been  the  end  of  the  pirat- 
ical episode,  I  think,  had  Seeyah  been  the 
captain  of  the  ci-ew;  but  while  he  stood 
undecided,  with  his  hand  in  the  bag.  the 
others  maintained  an  animated  council 
of  war,  in  whose  utterances  I  seemed  to 
recognize  ai)peals  of  urgency  to  him  and 
of  detiance  to  me,  and  .so  Seeyah  renewed 
the  attack. 

I  perfectly  realized  the  unpleasantness 
of  my  position,  but  I  felt  tlie  situation 
bore  most  importantly  on  the  relations 
between  the  Indians  and  me  for  the  bal- 
ance of  the  trip.  It  was  a  crisis  1  would 
have  cheerfully  averted,  but  being  thrust 
upon  me,  I  believed  the  success  of  my 
venture,  to  say  nothing  of  my  peace  of 
mind,  depended  on  how  I  survived  it.  It 
was  not  only  that  the  Indians  should  at 
this  period  of  their  hunger  consume  those 
few  balls  of  pemmican, but  it  was  that  their 
disregard  of  my  commands  might  in  the 
future  lead  to  greater  recklessness  in  pro- 
visions; and  recklessness  of  provisions 
was  just  as  apt  as  not  to  end  in  our  star- 
vation, or,  what  concerned  me  more,  fail- 
ure of  my  trij).  I  had  fetched  the  pem- 
mican to  have  at  a  time  and  cache  at  a 
place  when,  as  near  as  I  could  estimate, 
we  should  be  in  direst  need.  To  eat  it 
now,  with  the  journey  barely  begun,  was 
to  rob  us  of  our  last  resource.  I  fell  if  I 
could  go  without  meat  for  two  days  and 
resist  tiie  tnptation  of  eating,  they,  whose 
very  existence  is  divided  into  alternate 
periods  of  feasting  and  fasting,  could  also, 
and  must,  if  my  determination  was  to  car- 
ry weight. 


790 


lIAllI'KirS    NKW    MONTHLY    MAGA/INK. 


m 


INDIAN    I.KIidlNII. 


I  wiis  not  a  litllf  «>X!is|)('riilt'(I,  too,  llmt 
tlm  liidiiiiis  should  triMt  my  wislics  willi 
coiiti'iM|»l,  and  .so  wlicii   Srcviili   fciH'Wfd 
liis  <x|)loriitioiis  for  pciiiiiiicnn   I  cont'tfss 
I  WHS  ill    til  liiiiiioi-  to 
leave  III)  doillil  ill  tlieii- 
minds  us  to  uliom  tlio 
disposition  ol'llial  pein 
miean  icI  iiaily  lielon;^' 
ed.      .Iiimoiny    to   my 
I'eet.  I  <;i'al)i)(  d  tlie  lli(l- 
ian    l»y    the    slioiilder 
and  jcrUed  him  uuay 
from   my  sUmIj:'*'.      I  n- 
slantly  all  the  Indians 
wfire  on  tlieir  feet,  juh- 
hei'iiifr  and    jresticula- 
liny  at   u   <,'reat   rate; 
and    while    the   storm 
of     tlii'ir     displeasure 
ra<jed.    I      iiacUed     up 
against  my  sledge  and 
awaited  its  ahatemeiit, 
sliontins;     illd     evei-y 
now    and    atjfain,  and 
keepiii<if  ii  sharp  look- 
out  for  any  sudden   movement   on   their 
])arl.      As  I  writ(^  now,  and  in  my  mind's 
eye  see  tliose  Indians  grouped  ahout  the 
toalcettlo,  all  talking  at  once,  and  casting 
lowering   looks   at    me,  l)ack  against   my 
sledge,  shouting  illd  whenever  I  thought 
they  could  hear  m<'  ahove  their  own  din, 
the  situation  seems  very  ludicrous.      Jjiit 
the  liumor  of  it  did  not  appeal  to  me  so 
much  at  that  time. 

Finally,  when  there  came  a  lull  in  the 
vocal  bombardment,  I  stejjped  forward 
and  entered  upon  the  most  elaborate  and 
important  speech  I  had  yet,  attempted  in 
tlie  sign  language.  I  held  their  attention 
for  probal)ly  thirty  mimiles,  and  there 
was  no  interruption  save  when  tlie  dogs 
broke  into  the  loilge  and  scrambled  and 
fought  all  over  us,  until  whipped  out 
again.  I  expressed  to  them  that  [  had 
brought  the  ])emmican  not  for  myself,  but 
for  us  all;  that  we  had  only  begun  our 
journey;  that  there  might  come  a  tinu^ 
when  it  would  save  us  from  death;  that  I 
intended  leaving  it  at  the  last  wood;  that 
they  could  not  get  it  now  without  light- 
ing for  it,  ami  if  we  fought  I  should  sure- 
ly bt!  killed,  as  we  were  in  quarters  too 
conlined  to  use  any  weapon  but  a  knife, 
ami  they  were  sev(Mi  against  me.  and  then 
the  "  Big  Master"  (the  Hudson  Bay  Com- 
pany's commissioner,  Mr.  Chipman,  who 
I  hope  will  forgive  my  liking  him  to  an 


implacable  Nemesis  in  my  liour  of  need) 
would  lake  all  their  skins  away,  and  kill 
them  and  their  women  and  children.  I 
do  not  believe  at  any  time  they  really 
had  an  idi^a  of  .serious  personal  cnnllici. 
but,  alall  events.  I  made  them  understand 
tiiey  could  not  get  the  pemmican  that 
night  without  putting  me  out  of  the  way, 
ai.d  they  left  otV  iiiiittering-,  drank  tlieir 
lea  in  sullen  silence,  glaring  at  nm  over 
the  top  of  their  cups.  i'.ej'ore  pipes  had 
been  lighted  two  of  the  scouts  came  in, 
each  with  a  <'ai'il)ou  hea<l  on  his  l)ack  and 
bearing  the  good  news  that  three  had 
been  killed.  So  peace  I'eigned  again  in 
the  lodge,  and  the  late  unpleasantness  was 
forgotten,  while  we  feasted  on  the  ears 
and  eyes  and  tongnt's  of  those  two  heads. 

But  these  two  heads  among  eight  men 
furnishe<l,  of  course,  only  a.  mouthful 
a))iecc,  and  the  real  feast,  and,  I  may  add, 
our  last,  began  the  next  morning,  when 
we  came  to  where  the  three  carcassc^s  of 
the  caribou  lay.  It  ha|)peiied  that  there 
were  a  few  scattering  little  sticks  nearby, 
and  half  of  us  gathered  firewood,  while 
the  others  guarded  the  caribou  from  the 
rapacious  dogs.  To  hold  the  dogs  in 
check  is  to  turn  the  sledges  upside  down 
and  sit  on  them.  But  all  the  whih;  the 
dogs  jiunp  and  lug  and  howl,  and  now 
and  again  one  slips  his  simple  harnes.s, 
and  then  nothing  sliort  of  a  blow  that 
knocks  iiim  nearly  sens(iless  drives  him 
from  the  caribou.  It  is  cruel  treatment, 
but  the  necessity  is  extreme.  Sometimes, 
even  with  tin;  sledge  tui-ned  over,  the 
starving,  straining  dogs  get.  started  tow- 
ards the  coveted  ])iMze,  and  then  every 
man  sets  upon  them  witli  whipstock  and 
lash,  for  once  those  four  dogs  got  to  tlie 
carcass,  tln-re  would  be  no  hope  of  rescu- 
ing any  of  the  meat.  Sometimes,  fren- 
zied by  their  unsuccessful  ell'orts  to  get 
the  meat,  they  turn  on  one  another,  and 
then  ensues  a  dog-light  of  such  fury  as 
can  never  be  witnessed  anywhere  beyond 
the  liarren  Grounds,  with  its  maddening 
conditions. 

Even  thoiig'i  i)y  some  transcendent  and 
])rovideiitial  means  I  should  be  given 
l)lenty  to  eat  not  anything  could  induce 
me  to  again  visit  the  liarreiis  and  witness 
the  sutferiuii's  of  tliosn  poor  dumb  brutes. 
Only  for  one  peric/d  (I  think-,  tlioiigh  not 
absolutely  certp.in,  because  I  was  too  cold 
and  miserable  to  write  in  my  note-book 
every  day,  and  must  depend  largely  on 
memory)   of  three  days  on  the  trip  did 


UN    SNOW- SHOES   TO    IlIK    iSAliKKN    (JltorNDS. 


r','1 


tlioy  po  riilircl\-  witlioiit  iiiciit.  At,  .ill 
otliei's  tlit'V  liiid  Ik  litll*'.  just  ii.  iiioiiliil'iil. 
oxct'pt  t\\  i(M',  w  lien  \vt'  t'iiiii|HMl  Wy  u  ydixj 
killiii^r  of  iiiiisU  -  ox,  iilid  thfii  tlicy  liiK'tl 
sumpluoiisi y.  Hut  lln-y  wcrc'  liall"  rmii- 
islifd  pritctically  :ill  tiic  tiiiif.  iiml  my  ('(in 
HcieiH'o  sniotc  nic  sin'oly  as  I  noird  tinir 
(flai'iiiiT fycs  and  tiickt'd up  Ntomai'hs,  and 
I't'jilizt'd  that,  my  lliii'sl  tor  advrnMiif  was 
tlie  CiiilMO  of  it  all.  We  were  fnitiinalt' 
<>n()U(>[li  to  kill  cai'ihoM  and  mii>k oxen  at 
intervals  wliicli  cnaljlcd  us  to  yivt^  llm 
tlojfs  just  a  l)il<'  soMU'tinu'M  »!Vory  day, 
and  at  least  every  other  day.  u  illi  tlie  ex- 
ception of  that  thre(!  (lay  period. 

When  we  killed  caribou  the  doys  were 
fed  on  the  spot,  .and  I  he  little  meat  remain 
in<f  was  divideil  amoni;-  the  sled^^es,  to  l)e 
carried  for  tlietn  atfainst  the  days  wo  were 
Hot    so   lucky.       We    never    were    lucky 


enoM;.r||  to  kill  hefoi'e  tlii.s  little  NUpply 
was  cxhanstetl,  Had  we  l»een,  we,  the 
seven  Indians  and  I.  would  have  eaten 
meat.  .\s  it  w.is,  \\*'  ate  the  inleslines 
and  fat.  and  the  do;^s  ate  the  meat,  he 
caiiMi  there  was  not  nourishment  enou;.;li 
in  the  intestines  for  the  (h)ys.  |»efor«f  we 
left  Resolution,  I'eniah  and  I  li.id  a  thor- 
ou;:'h  underslandin;:'!)!!  this  point.  .Many 
of  the  Indian  expeilitions  to  the  Harren.s 
are  crippled  hy  loss  of  doys  from  st;irva- 
tion.and  1  knew  the  loss  of  our  do;;'s  meant 
failure;  so  we  (hcided  if  there  w.is  any 
starving  the  nrculer  part  of  it  should  fall 
on  US,  re:ili/.iiiu-  (tf  coucse  that  if  the  worst 
came  wi>  could  eat  the  does,  lieniah  held 
to  his.'inreemeiit.  and  enforced  comiilianct! 
from  the  others,  and  to  his  w  isdom  in  this 
direction,  in  fact,  is  due  miu'h  of  our  suc- 
cess in  irettiny  out  of  tlie  liarrens. 


■JKAJL  ■«,• 


K'%'- 


ya 


T>vif.)-,«,  tVfli^^c^  ^ 


FEEDING   THE    DOGS. 


722 


IIAKPEUS    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


Wlieii  it  is  reni<'inl)crc(l  that  tlic  ordi- 
nary meal  for  a  dog- IrMiii  — /.  e.,  fcnir 
do<:js,  that  are  ti'avelliii<;-  tiiirt.v  or  more 
miles  a  day —  consists  of  a  caribou  liiiid 
and  fore  (luarter,  tiiat  we  liad  Iweiity- 
eij^'Iit  doys.  and  tiiat  we  never  <^oL  more 
tliaii  a  cai'ihou  or  two  at  iiitei'vais  of  scv- 
(M'al  (lavs,  iIk!  reader  may  uiuierstaiid 
why  the  (h)<;s  were  Hive  wild  animals,  and 
wliy  we  ale  ih:'  i'ltestiiies  and  grease  and 
saved  them  tiie  meat. 

Wlioii  we  killed  musk-ox  we  lirst  cut 
off  meat  for  a  day  or  two's  dog-feeding, 
at  d  then  turned  the  dogs  loose  on  the 
c;vrca:5se«,  over  which  they  worried  and 
.'.iiarleJ  and  fought  the  livelong  liight. 
"When  tliere  were  no  carcasses,  they  were 
fed  out  of  hand  from  the  slender  supply 
on  tlie  sledge,  and  then  they  fought  us, 
raid  worried  the  weaker  among- tliemselves 
into  dividing  the  frozen  chunks  that  were 
to  !sed  to  them. 

Tliis  dog-feeding  was  a  trying  experi- 
ence. All  tlie  trains  were  fed  at  Uie 
same  time — when  we  camped  at  niglit — 
and  such  a  .scene  cannot,  be  duplicated 
an  vwhci'e  on  earth.  As  we  emerged  from 
the  lodge  with  the  tiny  feed  rolled  up  in 
the  skirt  of  our  capote,  tliere  was  a  rush  by 
the  dogs  that  pretty  nearly  carried  us  off 
our  feet,  and  frequently  knocked  down  the 
lodge.  We  always  tried,  but  never  with 
success,  to  steal  a  march  on  the  dogs  and 
get  away  from  the  lodge  before  the  rush, 
but  the  moment  one  of  us  showed  his  head 
they  gathered  for  the  assault,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  scramble  out  as 
best  we  could,  otherwise  they  would  have 
poured  into  the  lodge  and  torn  it  and  our 
clothes  to  pieces  in  their  crazy  hung<>r.  So 
we  would  bolt  out  in  a  body,  heads  down, 
and  hugging  the  meat  to  our  l)reasts  with 
one  hanil.  use,  the  whij)  vigorously  with 
the  other,  while  the  dogs  jumped  into  us 
and  on  top  of  us  in  their  fi-antic  endea- 
vors to  tear  away  the  little  scrap  of  meat 
w<>  held.  Gradually  we  would  separate, 
and  each  man  attempt  to  gatlier  his  train 
by  lashing  those  that  did  not  belong  to 
him.  and  calling  by  name  tho.se  that  did. 

AVhcn,  after  much  fighting,  each  had 
gathered  his  own,  tin;  actual  ])rocess  of 
feeding  began,  and  this  again  demanded 
muc!i  activity  and  some  strategy  to  in- 
sure every  dog  of  yoin-  train  gftling  its 
portion.  I  iu>ver  had  tinu;  to  milicc^  how 
the  Indians  did  it,  but  my  method  was  to 
I'un  each  dog  in  turn  a  few  yards  from 
the  other  three,  quickly  toss  his  meat  to 


him    before    the    others    caught    np,  and 
then  stand  guard  over  him  while  he  ate  it. 

The  eating  did  not  occupy  much  time 
— there  was  only  a  growl,  a  grab,  and  a 
gulp,  and  the  meat  was  gone. 

It  was  necessary  to  be  expeditious,  for 
the  dogs  that  had  swallowed  their  meat 
ran  from  group  to  group  seeking  those 
that  had  not.  and  woe  betide  the  pool* 
beast  thai  attcmjited  to  masticate  his  mor- 
sel!  Two  of  iny  train,  Flossie  and  Fiii- 
iiette,  were  \v\'y  timid,  and  gave  me  no 
end  of  bother.  It  was  only  necessary  for 
another  dog  to  start  toward  them,  and 
they  would  di-op  their  meat  and  run  ott'. 
I  found  it  neces.saiw  to  hold  them  by  the 
scull"  of  the  neck  while  they  ate,  and  I 
laid  my  whipstock  over  the  heads  of  the 
dogs  that  fought  around  me. 

Feeding  animals  in  the  Zoo  isn't  a  cir- 
cumstance to  feeding  dogs  in  the  Barrens. 

As  I  have  said,  our  three-caribou  feast 
of  that  morning — our  third  in  the  "Land 
of  Ijittle  Sticks  '" — was  the  last.  I  like  to 
dwell  on  it  even  nov,'.  First  the  legs  of 
the  caribou  were  cut  off,  stripped  of  their 
sinews  and  llesh,  and  the  bones  cracked 
ojien  for  iIk^  mari-ow  ;  then  the  heart  and 
kidneys  and  two  unborn  calves;  then  the 
tongues  and  the  eyes  and  the  ears;  and 
all  the  while  I'ibs  were  roasting,  stuck 
u))on  slides  about  the  lire,  and  a  kettle 
full  of  \vhat  was  left  from  the  dog-feed 
hung  sus])<'nded  from  a  tripod  over  all.  I 
conlined  myself  to  the  marrow  and  ribs, 
and  simply  marvelled  at  the  quantity 
those  Indians  ate.  When  we  started  on 
again  there  was  not  left  a  great  deal  of 
the  thi-ee  cai'i!>ou  to  load  on  to  the  sledges, 
but  the  Indians  were  in  good  humor. 

About  noon  of  that  day.  from  tin*  top  of 
a  ridge,  we  saw.  far  in  the  distance,  a  lilack- 
l)atch,  so  much  larger  than  those  we  had 
passed  it  seemed  almost  as  though  Ave 
had  got  turn(>d  al)out  ami  were  travelling- 
toward  the  timber's  edge.  But  my  com- 
l)ass  told  me  the  direction  was  north, 
and  Beniah  nuide  me  understand  by  signs 
that  this  was  the  "last  wood."  It  loonu'd 
up  almost  like  a  forest;  but  when  wa 
reached  it,  late  in  the  afternoon,  it  proved 
to  be  not  more  extensive  than  about  live 
acres.  But  all  things  go  by  comparison, 
aiul  those  five  acres  of  .scattei'ing  small 
])int^  wer(>  as  gi-atifying  to  us  as  though 
they  had  made  a  Maine  forest.  Most  of 
the  trees  averaged  from  one  to  two  inches 
in  diameter,  though  there  were  .some  twice 
as  large,  and  I   noticed   a   verv  few  that 


> 


> 
9 


> 

H 

a 

2 

> 
2 
S 


4. 

a 

f 

{ 


:^,^M 


724 


HARPER'S    NEW   MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


miglit  have  been  fivo  or  six  iiiclies.  At 
iuiy  i-ate,  it  ail  l)lazed  warmly,  and  it 
was  pleasant  after  our  experience  in  the 
"Land  of  Little  Sticks"  to  feel  the  heiit 
of  a  lire  once  more.  How  deeply  I  was 
to  appreciate  that  lire  a  few  weeks  later! 
Beniah  sij,n>ed  me  next  morning  that 
■we  should  camp  here  one  "sleep.'"  to  chop 
wood  to  take  aloiifj:  with  us,  and  to  kill 
caribou  to  cache  here  for  our  return,  liut 
in  fact  we  remained  at  the  "last  wood" 
two  "sleeps,"  because  the  carii)ou  were  not 

to  be  had  easily,  and 
the  stormy  weather 
developed  intoabliz 
zard  that  delayed 
travel.  The  first  day 
served  to  g'ive  me 
an  object-lesson  as 
to  the  dece])tion  of 
di-stances  on  the 
Barrens. 

All  the  Ind'ans 
had  hunted  unsuc- 
cessfully in  the 
morning'  and  re- 
tui'iied  to  wood- 
chopping  in  the  af- 
ternoon, and  I  de- 
termined to  venture 
after  caribou,  as  I 
knew,  with  this 
))atch  of  timber  vis- 
ible from  any  ridge 
within  live  miles  or 
so,  I  could  not  lose 
myself.  I  had  gone,  I  sui)pose,  about  six 
miles  when,  by  the  aid  of  my  field  glasses, 
I  counted  five  cariixMi  a  couple  of  miles 
away,  at  the  edge  of  a  lake,  and  noted  that 
a  very  strojig  wind  was  blowing,  and,  to 
ni}'  good  fortune,  froi>i  them  to  me.  It 
is  dillicult  to  ajjproach  game  in  this 
country,  notwithstanding  its  vales  and 
mounds,  because  tlie  caribou  are  almost 
invariably  viewed  iii'st  on  a  lake  oi"  at  its 
edge,  to  which  the  undulations  descend 
in  continuous  long  sweeps.  But  I  made 
a,  careful  stalk,  crawling  from  rock  to 
rock  and  from  snow-drift  to  snow-drift, 
and  finally  reached  a  point  beyond  which 
there  was  no  hope  of  undiscovered  ap- 
proach. I  judged  I  was  about  thre(>  jiun- 
dred  yards  from  my  quarry,  aiul  as  they 
were  quietly  grazing  l)i'oadside  to  me, 
conlidently  counted  on  taking  at  least  a 
coui)le  of  tongues  into  camp. 

I  raised  my  sight  to  .'^00  yards;  a  quiclc, 
steady  aim,  and  I  pulled  trigger   for  the 


medicike-mak's  necklace. 


first  time  on  Barren  Ground  caribou. 
But  no  caribou  fell,  nor  was  there  ajiy 
little  putt'  of  snow  to  tell  nie  I  had  shot 
over  or  under.  Three  times  in  rapid  suc- 
cession, but  with  careful  sighting,  I  fired 
at  the  same  animal  with  the  same  results, 
and  before  I  could  I'eload  my  half-maga- 
zine the  caribou  weri^  oil'  around  a  point. 
That  I  was  di.sgusted  is  hardly  necessary 
to  say;  that  I  was  bitterly  disappointed 
those  sportsmen  Avho  have  lost  their  sup- 
per by  pool-  marksmanship  will  know. 
But  my  wonder  at  not  having  .scored  on 
such  a  big  target  —  for  all  live  were 
bunched — was  greater  than  my  disgust 
or  disappointment.  I  walked  over  to 
see  if  I  had  drawn  blood,  and  I'eacbing 
the  jdace  where  the  caribou  had  been 
standing  in  what  seemed  an  incredibly 
■short  300  yards,  I  i)aced  back,  and,  to  my 
amazement,  found  the  distance  measured 
just  1105  yards!  I  had, of  course,  shot  far 
over  them.  But  I  was  thankful  to  have 
made  this  discovery  before  reaching  musk- 
ox,  even  though  it  had  cost  us  much 
needed  meat,  and  I  vowed  on  the  spot  to 
at  once  begin  schooling  my  eye  to  the 
illusions  of  the  white  desert. 

I  followed  the  caribou  for  a  while,  in 
hoj)es  of  getting  another  chance,  but  they 
had  gone  too  far;  and  then,  as  I  headed 
for  camp,  I  began  my  first  1'  ^ons  in  Bai-- 
ren  Ground  distance-gaugi'  ,  by  guessing 
the  yards  to  a  stone  and  th  .i  pacing  them 
oiY.  I  was  not  only  a,stoniehed  at  the  dis- 
cr<^pancy  between  my  guess  and  the  actual 
distance,  but  oftentimes  by  the  size  of  the 
rock  wlien  I  reached  it.  A  stone  which 
looked  as  large  as  a  cabin  at  four  or  five 
hundred  yai-ds  would  turn  out  to  be  about 
as  big  as  a  bushel  basket.  Later,  on  the 
one  or  two  very  clear  cold  days  we  had, 
the  illusion  was  reversed.  Of  course  the 
dithculties  of  determining  distances  on 
the  Bai'rens  are  exactly  similar  to  those 
that  obtain  on  the  ocean,  where  tiiere  is 
iiolhiug  by  which  to  gauge  the  range  of 
one's  vision,  nor  any  object  on  either  side 
for  a  comparative  focus.  I  found  much 
diHiculty  in  overcoming  the  tendency  to 
exaggerate  distance,  though  the  Indians 
apparently  were  not  so  troubled. 

When  I  returned  to  camp  that  nij^hl 
the  Indians  had  iinished  chopping  the 
supply  of  wood  we  were  to  take,  and  like- 
wise during  the  day  Iinished  the  rem- 
nantsof  the  feast  left  from  the  day  before, 
so  that  again  we  were  without  meat.  We 
were  to  have  left  the  "last  wood"  the 


ON   SNOW-SHOES   TO   THE   BARREN   GROUNDS. 


7U 


next  morning,  but  the  tlier- 
moineter  i-pf^istercd  58°  bolow, 
tind  ii  blizzard  of  sucli  .sevcrily 
raged  tliat  the  Indians  would 
not  face  it;  so  we  lay  in  our 
robes  until  aixml  tiiree  o'clock, 
when  tlie  fury  of  the  storm 
lessened,  and  every l)ody  turn- 
ed out  to  hunt.  When  we 
assembled  again,  four  hours 
liiter.  there  was  a  yearling  for 
the  dogs,  an  unl)oi'n  calf  for 
us,  and  a  cow  that  had  not 
been  brought  in. 

The  temjitation  to  linger 
here,  where  at  least  there  was 
a  fire  to  warm  our  em])ty 
stomachs,  was  considerable ; 
but  the  morning  of  the  third 
day  broke  clear,  thougli  with 
such  a  biting  wind  as  almost 
took  our  bi-eath  away,  and  we 
realized  that  the  caribou  were 
leaving  us,  and  tiiere  was  no 
time  to  lose.  So  now  we  be- 
gan our  last  preparations  for 

the  plunge  into  the  Barren  Grounds  prop-  derness,  wh<>re  those  that  enter  may  leave 
or.  We  calculated  on  getting  back  to  this  hope  l)eliind,biit  will  stand  a  better  chance 
point  in  about  twenty  days,  and  wei'e  of  getting  out  if  they  lake  it  along  with 
taking  th'it  mjiiiy  nights' supply  of  wood,     them. 

intending  to  push  due  north  for  from  ten  When  we  left  the  last  wood,  toiling 
to  twelve  days.  The  wood  we  took  from  over  the  succession  of  i-ocky  ridges  that 
the  largest  trees  to  be  found  in  that  patch,  lay  to  the  north,  a  curiously  depress- 
and  was  cut  into  blocks  just  the  wadth  of  ing  sensation  possessed  m»!  ;is  I  viewed 
a  sledge— i.e.,  about  fourteen  inches— and  the  '"last  wood"  grow  smaller  and  small- 
then  split  into  quarters,  because  we  were  er.  Piece  by  piece  its  size  diminished 
to  take  no  axe  Every  sledge  was  shod  as  the  intervening  elevations  shut  off 
with  extra  runners  to  protect  it  from  the  the  outlying  i)atches.  It  seemed  like  bid- 
rocks,  and  when  l')aded  with  the  wood,  ding  farewell  to  the  last  tie  that  connected 
there  v'as  hardly  riH)in  for  our  sleeping-     us  witli  the  living  world— and  then  at  the 


Caribou-Eater, 


Vellow  Knife. 


Caribou- Euttir. 


TYPKS    OF    NORTH-LAND    INDIANS. 

Kri»m  a  [■lii'tii;:r!ijill  liy   Mr.  Whitin-y. 


robes  and  moccasins  and  duifel.  Then 
we  cached  the  cariboi:  cow  that  had  been 
killed  the  day  befoj-e,  along  with  my  re- 
bellion-inciting  balls  of   pemmican,  the 


next  ridge  it  was  gone,  and  not  a  green 
thing  relieved  the  awful  ghastliness  of 
the  whiteness  that  encirch'd  us  foi-  miles 
and   miles.      Wherever  I   looked — north, 


ten  pounds  of  floir,  half  of  my  remaining  south,  east,  west — nothingshowed  butthat 

supply  of  tobacco,  tea,  and  cartridges,  and  terrible  stretch  of  silent  grinning  white. 

O'ery  article  that  was  not  absolutely  ne-  And  the  sun  shone  down  on  this  desohilo 

cessar}'    to    om*    continued    ))rogress.      I  scen(!  and  on  me  ;is  ))lacidly  as  it  shone 

wrote  also  and  left  in  the  cache  a  brief  upon   the  most  blessed  of  God's  world,  if 

account  of  our  journey  up  to  that  time,  with  less  warmth  I 

and  of  the  course  \\v.  intended  to  ])ui-sue.  There    was    no    halting   owce    we    had 

Not  far  to  the  westward  the  Franklin  clindjed  the  long  reach  of  ridg<'s  that  led 

l)arty,  seventy-five  years  l)efore,  had  raised  north   from  our  camp  and  jjas.sed  out  of 

a  monument  to  their  memory  in  the  name  siyht  of  the  "last  wood."     It  was  ab.so- 

of  Fort  Entei'prise,  and  though  I  had  nei-  lutely    necessary    for    us    to    make   good 

tiiei"  time  nor  tools,  not  even  tin;  wish,  to  time  if  our  wood  was  to  cjirry  us  as  far 

raise  a   fool's  sign -board   in   warning  to  north  as  I  wished  to  penetrate,  and  1  was 

others,  I  thought  it  as  well  to  leave  some  much  j)leased  with  Beniah  for  the  i);ice  he 

remarks  at  the  thi'esliold  of  that  great  wil-  set.      In  fact,  I  Jiever  ceased  to  he  thank- 


im 


HAllPER'S    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


ful  that  I  had  secured  liiin,  foi'  not  only 
did  we  niaiiitiiin  a  <>'()()d  <;ai(  in  tiie  face 
of  tiie  hardest  goiiij^,  but  we  Ivcpt  travel- 
ling i'T  such  storms  as  would  have  stoi)i)ed 
any  o+lier  leailer.  Beniah  was  a  plucky 
Indian,  tlie  j)Iucki('st  in  tlie  country. 
Tliat  was  why  I  made  such  an  ell'oi't  to 
<^et  him. 

We  must  have  ji^one  close  to  forty  miles 
the  first  day,  and  at  noon  of  the  .second 
caiTUi  to  a  l)i<;-  lake  the  Indians  called,  as 
near  as  I  can  write  it,  Ecka-tua  (which 
nwans  fat  watei — lake),  and  I  was  able 
for  the  lii'st  time  since  leaving  lieniah's 
lodj^'e  to  about  locate  myself  on  tlie  map. 
Ecka-tna  on  th<^  map,  as  I  knew,  is  I'oint 
Lake,  the  source  of  Coppermine  pjver; 
and  as  I  also  knew  it  was  334  miles  from 
Fort  Enterpi'ise  to  the  mouth  of  the;  Cop- 
permine by  canoe,  via  Ecka  tua,  1  was 
siu'e  we  would  j^ta  very  close  to  the  Ai'c- 
tic  Oce.in,  travelling  due  north,  at  tlie  rate 
we  had  been  g'oinj^.  I  had  no  sextant, 
and  relied  for  determimition  of  location 
upon  the  detlection  of  my  compass  nee- 
dle (which  at  this  point  was  35°  east  of 
iu)i'th),  and  upon  the  number  of  miles  we 
made  each  day.  The  nund)er  of  degrees 
of  deflection  I  read  at  night,  when  it,  did 
not  storm,  by  the  north  star,  and  the 
number  of  miles  per  day  is  easily  reck- 
oned by  every  man  who  has  had  any 
walking  experience.  Besides,  I  had  a  pe- 
dometer. 

Ecka-tna  was  full  four  miles  wide  at 
our  point  of  crossing.  We  ha'f  no  meat 
to  eat  and  no  wood  to  spare  !  ■  •  mid-day 
tea,  so  we  pushed  on,  runr  v-  which 
was  rather  trying  on  fare  limited  to  an 
occasional  pipe  and  a  mouthful  of  very 
dry  snow.  We  were  kee])ing,  of  course, 
a  sharp  lookout  for  caribou  all  this  time, 
and  besides  having  scouts  out  on  either 
side,  we  halted  on  the  toj)  of  every  ridge 
that  was  high  enough  to  furnish  a  view, 
where  I  .scanned  the  country  on  all 
sides  through  my  glasses,  aiul  we  all 
smoked  another  pipe  and  tried  to  suck 
some  moisture  from  the  simw.  There  is 
a  dill'erence  in  eating  snow  and  sucking 
vhe  moisture  from  it;  neither  is  satisfac- 
tory, but  the  former  is  harmful  to  the 
traveller,  and  pvjtty  cei-tain  to  be  followed 
by  increased  thirst  and  cramps. 

Liite  in  the  afternoon,  from  the  top  of 
a  ridge,  we  viewed  a  small  licrd  of  eight 
caril'OU  on  a  lake  below  us,  and  I  wit- 
nessed the  (irst  practical  demonstration  of 
the  rea.son  w'liv  tlui  Indians  are  such  un- 


succo^.sfui  hungers  On  I  he  diixu^'i  ly  of 
the  Cii-'bnu  tho  dc^gs  had  been  di-ivei;  i';u  k. 
just  Li  'Icr  l!i(-.  uruw  cf  the  hi!!,  where 
they  were  U-Jt  in  clurv.e  of  half  our  num- 
be)',  viid  the  i  st  of  !..-■  ])ropared  for  the 
attempt  to  '^-et  soir-e  uiouL.  The  wind  was 
blowing  from  e;ist  to  west,  and  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  two  of  the  Indians  going  off 
to  the  east  side  of  the  cai'ibou.  I  circled 
well  to  the  west,  though  not  too  far  away 
to  keep  Beniah,  who  wis  on  my  I'ight,  in 
sight.  I  had  worked  my  way  down  to 
the  lake,  and  was  making  a  good  stalk, 
with  every  chance  o'  getting  within  nice 
range,  when  the  shouting  of  the  Indians 
and  yelping  of  the  dogs  attracted  my  at- 
tention, and,  lo  and  behold  I  coming  down 
the  hill  straight  for  the  caribou,  and  in 
plain  view,  were  the  dogs  and  the  Indians, 
Sf-me  riding  on  the  sledges,  some  running, 
but  all  yelling  and  bearing  down  on  the 
caribou.  Was  ever  a  greater  shock  visit- 
ed upon  the  nerves  of  a  still-hunter!  It 
simply  petrided  me.  I  stopped  and  stnred 
and  rubbed  my  eyes  to  mnke  sure  that 
those  running,  shouting  Indians  were  ac- 
tually the  ones  1  had  left  a  few  moments, 
before  trembling  in  anticii)ation  of  meat 
to  eat.  Of  cour.se  tlie  caribou  started  to 
run.  They  circled  around  the  lak-e  for 
a  time  (showing  when  they  trotted  such 
knee  and  hock  action  as  would  put  the 
hackney  to  shame),  all  the  Indians  and 
the  dogs  chasiiig  them  meanwhile,  and 
finally  turned  off  over  the  ridge,  where 
an  Indian  who  had  lingered  behind  was 
lucky  enough  to  kill  one. 

I  was  so  di.sgusted  at  the  disjday  that  I 
sat  down  and  pondered  wlij"^  God  in  His 
wisdom  had  made  these  men,  whose  very 
existence  depends  on  their  hunting,  so 
wanting  in  skill  and  judgment.  Had 
it  been  less  serious  I  should  have  been 
amused  by  the  spectacle  of  a  snow-shoed 
Indian  chasing  the  fleetest  quadruped  on 
earth.  As  it  was,  I  could  not  suppress  a 
smile—in  irony,  perhaps. 

And  this  is  the  North-land  Indian's 
method  of  hunting  caribou.  Sotnetimes 
when  hunting  singly  or  in  pairs  they 
make  the  nearest  approach  they  know  to 
a  stalk;  ))ut  the  usual  method,  invarialle 
when  they  are  in  a  body,  is  to  rush  on  to  the 
caribou,  and  trust  for  success  lo  their  own 
numbers  and  theconfusion  of  the  animals. 
If  it  were  not  that  the  Barren  Ground 
caribou  or  reindeer  is  a  stupid  sort  of 
creature, the  Indians  would  score  no  often- 
er  than  thev  do  on  moose  or  the  woodland 


o 
> 

2 
G 
o 

r! 


a 

H 


r;  t'iK  tv 
where 


n 
> 

t-i 

u 
o 

r! 

S 

M 

Q 
H 


ting',  so 

.      Had 

i-e  been 

wslioed 

aped  oil 

)press  a 

1  ; 

ndiaii's 

^1 
i- 

iietinios 
rs    they 

enow  to 

Ir 

t'ariiille 

!              / 

Ml  to  the 

cii-  own 

Liiiiiials. 

Ground 

sort  of 

o  of  ten - 

oodland 

<'  \ 


'ai:.  .,iiiia&..-j:;  ..-J 


728 


HARPER'S    NEW    MONTHLY    MAGAZINE. 


caribou.  But  the  reiiuloor  ujiiipars  to  prof- 
it no  inoro  by  expcii'Micc  tliaii  tlic  Indians 
tbeirLselves.  In  following;-  a  leader  tbey 
are  very  'nucli  like  slieep,  and  I  saw  many 
of  tlieni  killed  by  Indians  \v]\o  ran  to  a 
point  whore  a  liei-d  was  jjassinsr, and  wliicli 
continued  to  very  nearly  bold  its  coui-se 
des))ite  tlie  jn'oxiniity  of  tlie  enemy.  Car- 
ibou run  in  sinffie  or  double  lile,  and  very 
rarely  bundled.  It  is  in  sumnu;r-time, 
however,  that  the  15arren  (Jround  cari- 
bou falls  a  victim  to  tlie  ra[)acity  of  the 
Indians. 

Tlif-y  are  tlien  moving  in  vast  herds  of 
countless  numbers,  are  easily  ai)proaclu>d, 
or  turned  in  desired  directions  by  tufts  of 
moss  or  rock  set  up  in  lin"s,  aloufj:  wbich 
tiie  Indians  lie  in  ambusli,  or  driven  into 
lakes,  where  they  are  siauj^htered  by  the 
hundreds.  The  waste  in  sinnmer  of  these 
food-pi-oviding-  animals  of  tiie  North  on 
the  lakes  is  almost  incredible.  Hundreds 
are  shot  down  Tnerely  for  their  ton<rues, 
and  calves  are  killed  for  no  other  reason 
than  to  jrratify  tlie  North-land  Indian's 
love  of  destruction.  In  winter  the  cari- 
bou's eyesifjht  is  keener;  theyare.se  jarated 
into  small  herds,  and  inlinitely  in(>re  dif- 
ficult of  approach.  If,  therefore,  the  Ind- 
ians starve  because  of  unskilled  hunting', 
it  is  only  just  retrii)ution  foi'  heir  im- 
providence and  i-apacity.  It  was  a  bit 
liard  on  me  that  I  hapiiened  at  this  par- 
ticular time  to  be  an  innocent  sutl'erer  in 
the  result. 

After  tliis  experience  of  caribou-hunt- 
ing' I  joined  no  more  "chasing"  parties; 
I  was  having  every  day  all  the  running 
I  could  well  attend  to,  and  so  thereafter 
when  we  sighted  reindeer  I  devoted  iny- 
self  to  stalking-  those  that  liad  been  cut 
off  from  the  main  body.  But  never  in 
all  my  life  have  I  seen  such  wretched 
n  a,rksi.tan£hip  as  those  Indians  display- 
ed. They  not  only  miserably  bungled 
their  app.i'oach  to  the  caribou,  but  their 
ii)discri''iii.iie  firing'  and  the  commotion 
they  ixiid  tij-;  dogs  created  made  it  about 
impoasibie  for  me  to  g-et  within  ''ange. 

Not  the  least  trying  of  Barren  Ground 
huntinn^,  too,  is  the  bewilderinj?  glare  that 
assails  yonv  eyes  when  you  have  i)ut  up 
your  glasses,  as  you  must  so  soon  as 
you  start  in  pursuit  of  game.  Even  the 
darkest  of  smoked  goggles,  and,  what 
are  still  better,  those  of  native  manufac- 
ture, that  are  made  of  hone,  with  only  a 
T-sha])ed  apertui>p  before  the  eye,  cannot 
insure  you  against  snow-blindness.    There 


wei-e  very  few  bright  days  during  our 
wanderings  in  the  Barrens,  nevertheless 
every  man  in  the  party  but  myself  was 
more  or  less  severely  snow-blind,  one  or 
two  so  biidly  as  to  necessitate  their  hold- 
ing on  to  a  sledge-line  for  guidance. 

As  I  had  in  times  past  been  very  badly 
snow- blinded,  I  look  extraordinary  pre- 
cautions in  the  Barrens;  for  the  thought 
of  getting  up  with  musk-oxen  and  being 
unable  to  sight  my  rilie  was  unendur- 
able. So  I  drew  the  handkerchief  that 
was  wound  about  my  head  in  lieu  of  a 
hat  down  to  the  tops  of  my  goggles.  This 
kept  the  sun  from  shining  down  in  my 
eyes,  while  little  pieces  of  black  silk  fitted 
to  the  wire  screening  at  the  sides  shut 
out  all  light  from  that  direction.  I  al- 
ways walked  behind  mj  sledge,  and  kept 
my  eyes  on  the  tail  of  its  moose -skin 
wrapper.  While  my  eyes  pained  me  in- 
cessantly, as  much  from  the  smoke  of 
the  tiny  fire  in  the  lodge  as  from  the 
glare  of  the  sun,  I  was  never  snow- 
blind. 

Referring  again,  before  I  go  on  with  my 
trip,  to  the  handkerchief  I  wound  about 
my  head  after  the  Indian  fashion,  I  may 
say  it  served  me  better  than  all  the  other 
head -gear  I  possessed.  I  had  set  much 
store  by  a  worsted  hood  knitted  for  me 
in  Canada,  Avith  a  neck-piece  that  fitted 
about  the  chin,  and  a  draw-string  by 
which  I  could  close  it  up  to  my  eyes. 
But  I  found  it  more  harmful  than  bene- 
ficial, for  the  reason  that  the  freezing  of 
my  breath  transformed  its  entire  front 
into  a  sheet  of  ice,  wliich  it  was  impos- 
sible to  thaw  by  our  wretched  fire,  and 
served  only  to  freeze  my  face  more  quick- 
ly than  exposure.  For  the  same  reason  I 
carried  a  small  pair  of  scissors  to  keep 
my  beard  and  mustache  clipped  short. 
So  the  worsted  hood  was  discarded,  and 
the  lumdkerchief  held  my  hair,  which 
reached  nearly  to  my  shoulders,  in  place 
over  my  ears,  and  permitted  me  to  draw 
the  hood  of  my  fur  capote  forward  and 
bind  it  snugly  in  place.  Of  course  my 
cheeks  and  nose  and  chin  froze,  but  they 
would  have  done  so  anyway,  and  I  could 
thaw  them  out  by  rubbing  with  snow — a 
limbering  process  to  which  the  worsted 
hood  was  not  susceptible.  To  be  sure,  the 
method  was  rather  hard  on  my  face, 
which  by  the  time  I  returned  to  Beniah's 
lodge  was  as  blackened  and  cut  up  as  an 
alligator-skin;  and  it  was  hard  on  my 
fingers  too,  which  froze  with  about  every 


ON   SNOW-SHOES   TO   THE   BARREN   GROUNDS. 


r2d 


treatment  of  this  sort,  but  tliiit  was  no 
more  tlian  I  expected.  So  long  as  my 
feet  did  not  freez(i  to  stop  my  jiroj^rcss.  I 
surt'ered  all  else  without  a  murmur.  I 
was  as  careful  of  my  feet  as  of  iriy  e^'os. 
There  was  not  much  dan<;er  of  their 
freeziii'i;'  durin<,''  the  almost  continuous 
runninj?  of  the  daytime,  and  at  ni<;lit 
when  we  camped  my  first  act  was  to  put 
on  my  unborn  musk-ox  skin  slippers  and 
a  pair  of  fresh  diitl'el,  which  I  carried  in- 
side my  shirt,  next  my  skin  ;  then  I  would 
put  on  two  more  pair  of  duffel  and  a 
])air  of  moccasins,  taken  from  my  sledge. 
Those  I  took  off  I  put  inside  my  sweater 
and  slept  on  them.  In  the  morning  I 
again  put  my  musk-ox-skin  slippers  and 
one  pair  of  duffel  inside  my  shirt,  whei-e 
I  carried  them  all  day. 

But  then  these  are  details — and  prob- 
ably uninteresting  ones — and  1  must  get 
on  to  my  first  musk-ox  hunt. 

Two  days  more  of  hard  running,  in  a 
wind  that  seemed  to  come  direct  from  the 
north  pole,  brought  us— we  did  not,  know 
where,  but  certainly  once  again  to  the 
verge  of  starvation.  Meat  there  was  none, 
and  the  little  pieces  of  intestines  and 
grease  were  not  calculated  to  keep  one  up 
to  such  vigoi'ous  work.  There  had  been 
no  change  in  the  country;  indeed,  the  en- 
tire stretch  of  Barren  Ground,  so  far  as  I 
saw,  repeats  over  and  again  its  few  char- 
acteristics. Probably  as  you  go  north  it 
becomes  a  little  more  rolling,  if  I  may  use 
such  a  word,  where  its  face  is  broken  by 
ridges  of  rock,  I'ound  backed  and  conical 
hills,  small  lakes,  long,  slow-risir  and 
moderate  elevations,  all  entirely  u.  on- 
nected  and  separated  from  one  another, 
and  yet  the  view  from  an  especially 
promijient  elevation  always  reveals  the 
general  prairie  (rolling)  contour  of  the 
whole  benighted  country.  And  every- 
where silence;  no  sign  of  life,  no  vegeta- 
tion, sjive  the  black  moss  that  is  used  for 
fuel  in  summer  by  the  Indians,  and  the 
gray  moss  and  lichens  upon  which  the 
musk-ox  and  caribou  feed. 

It  was  about  three  o'clock  when  we 
dragged  ourselves  wearily  to  the  top  of 
one  of  the  many  rocky  ridges  we  had 
been  going  up  ami  down  all  day,  almost 
d?eading  to  make  the  usual  survey  for  the 
g  une  we  had  looked  for  so  often  and  in 
vail  during  the  last  two  days.  Oiiequick, 
eager  glance,  that  turned  to  despair  as 
neither  musk-ox  nor  caribou  was  to  l)e 
seen  in  any  direction,  and  we  sat  down  to 


draw  consolation  and  nourishment  fron^ 
our  pipes. 

Suddenly  Iceen-eyed  Beniali  jumped  to 
his  feet,  and  then  on  top  of  a  rock,  whei-e 
he  stood  excitedly  pointing  to  the  north- 
west, and  tremulously  repeating  etlten. 
ethen,  as  though  to  convince  him.self  that 
his  eyes  were  not  ])Iaying  him  false.  We 
were  all  standing  in  a  second,  staring 
into  the  horizon  when^  Beniiih  pointed; 
but  I  could  not  discover  anything,  except 
what  seeMi(>d  t()  l)e  a  va])oi'  coming  up 
out  of  the  rocks  four  miles  away,  and 
that  I  did  not  at  once  i-ecogiiize  as  the 
mist  Avhich  arises  from  a  herd  of  animals 
when  the  mercury  is  ranging  between 
C0°  and  70°  below  zero,  and  may  be 
seen  live  miles  away  on  a  clear  day.  A 
long  look  through  my  field-glasses  told 
me  the  "  rocks"  w(>re  nnimals  of  .some  sort, 
but  not  caribou;  and  as  I  handed  the 
glasses  to  Beniah  I  said,  'Eflicn,  illa,"aud 
motioned  him  to  look.  I  think  he  w;is 
nearly  as  nnich  exercised  by  the  powor 
of  the  glasses  as  by  the  prospect  of  game; 
at  all  events,  so  soon  as  he  got  them 
ranged  on  the  vai)or  he  set  up  a  yell  that 
I  interpreted  to  mean  ejeri,  and  made  a 
rush  .or  his  sledge. 

Instantly  there  was  excitement  enough 
on  top  of  that  ridge  to  ])ut  life  into  eight 
hungry  men.  I  never  beheld  such  agitii- 
tion.  The  Indians  for  a  minute  huddled 
together,  chattering  and  grinning  and  ges- 
ticulating, and  then  each  man  rushed  to 
his  sledge  and  began  slipping  his  dogs 
from  the  harne.ss.  I  knew  then  we  had 
sighted  musk-ox.  Of  course  I  'lad  suited 
my  action  to  the  Indians,  and  began  un- 
hitching my  dogs  also,  but  my  harness 
came  from  the  fort  and  had  buckles,  which 
in  the  bitter  cold  were  unyielding,  and  by 
the  time  I  had  got  all  my  dogs  loose,  put 
on  my  lighter  capote— for  I  saw  we  were 
in  for  a  long  run — and  strapped  on  my 
cartridge-belt,  all  the  Indians  and  all  the 
dogs  had  several  hundred  yards  start,  and 
were  going  along  at  a  I'attling  pace.  I 
saw  at  once  that  it  was  every  man  for 
himself  on  this  ex[)edition,  and  if  I  got  a 
musk-ox  I  should  have  to  work  for  him. 
And  then  I  settled  grimly  to  the  business 
of  running.  Within  about  two  miles  I 
had  caught  up  with  the  Indians,  who  had 
stretched  out  into  a  long  column,  with 
Seco  and  Echeena  leading  by  half  a  mile. 
In  another  mile  I  had  worked  my  way 
through  the  stragglers,  and  was  hard  on 
the  heels  of  Echeena,  but  Seco  Avas  still 


,^ 


->rv<JjUL'*\';V"^'  i'-^- 


A 


fl 


ML'SK-OX    AT    BAY. 


ON   SNOW-SHOES  TO   THE   BARREN   GROUNDS. 


781 


i 


f-',:     ■ 


.'    i 


about  two  liuiulred  yards  ahead,  and  po- 
iuff  as  th()uj,''li  lio  could  kocp  it  uj)  iiideli- 
uitcly.  Oil  my  atNMiipL  to  pass  liiin  Eclice- 
na  let  out  a  link,  and  I  had  all  I  could 
do  to  Ic<M'])  at  his  heels,  but  in  our  race  for 
second  place  wo  cut  dowu  Seco's  lead  by 
a  hundred  yards. 

xVll  this  time  we  had  been  runninfyover 
a  succession  of  sharp  ridf^es.  comijletely 
covered  with  all  shapes  and  sizes  of  rocks, 
an<l  set  in  snow  lliat  was  soft  and  al)out 
a  foot  and  a  half  deep.  With  tripi)ini4' 
shoes  we  of  course  sunk  in  the  snow  at 
every  step  to  within  six  inches  of  our 
knees,  wliilo  our  shoes  januned  in  the 
rocks  that  lay  close  tof,a'ther,  or  cauj^lit 
on  those  we  attempted  to  clear  in  our 
stride.  It  was  a  species  of  hurdle-racing-, 
with  the  softest  of  takeotV  and  laiuling 
sides,  and  obstacles  that  wei-e  not  to  be 
knocked  over.  It  was  jroiufr  that  would 
test  the  bottom  of  the  well-fed,  best-con- 
ditioned athlete;  how  it  wore  on  a  half- 
starved  man  may  be  ima<:;'ined. 

It  seemed  as  though  we  should  never 
view  the  musk-oxen.  Ridge  after  ridge 
we  toiled  over,  and  still  that  little  cloud 
of  vapor  ai)peared  as  far  off  as  when  first 
sighted.  Our  positions  remained  vui- 
changed — Seco  leading  with  three  dogs, 
Echeena  and  I  a  hundred  yards  be- 
hind, and  half  a  mile  back  of  us  the  re- 
mainder of  the  Indians  and  dogs.  At 
such  times  as  the  deadly  fatigue  of  i-un- 
ning  permitted  coherent  thought  I  won- 
dered why  Seco  maintained  such  a  pace, 
for  I  supposed  when  tlie  musk-oxen  were 
located  he  would  of  course  delay  his  at- 
tack until  all  the  Indians  and  dogs  had 
come  up;  but  I  had  seen  enough  of  the 
Indians  not  to  take  any  chances;  and  so 
I  kept  on,  each  step  seeming  the  last  I 
could  possibly  make. 

As  we  were  working  our  way  up  a 
rather  higher  and  broader  ridge  I  heard 
the  dogs  bark,  and  rushing  past  Echeena, 
reached  the  top  in  time  to  .see  a  hei-d  of 
about  twenty- five  to  thirty  musk-oxen, 
just  startled  into  moving  along  another 
ridge  about  a  quarter -mile  beyond  by 
Seco,  who  with  his  three  dogs  was  racing 
after  them  not  fifty  yards  ahead  of  me. 
Disgust,  disappointment,  and  piiysical  dis- 
tress momentarily  stupefied  me.  Then 
sight  of  the  musk-oxen,  thought  of  what 
I  had  endured  to  reach  them,  fired  me 
to  renewed  action.  I  anathematized  Seco 
and  all  the  North-land  Indians  for  their 
fool   methods  of  hunting,  and  increased 

Vol.  XCir,— No.  551.— 81 


my  pace.  The  nuisk-oxen  were  now  in 
full  I'un  to  the  north  along  the  top  of  the 
ridge,  gallo[)ing  like  caltl(\  with  heads 
curried  well  out,  though  not  lowered,  and 
going  at  a  pace  and  with  an  ease  over  the 
rocks  that  surprised  me.  Their  big  bodies, 
with  the  long  hair  hanging  down  to  em- 
])hasize  the  sh(,rtness  of  legs,  gave  a  curi- 
ous a|)pearance  to  the  Hying  herd. 

The  wind  was  blowing  a  gale  from  the 
south,  and  we  had  hardly  reached  the  lop 
of  the  ridge  f)n  which  the  musk-oxen  had 
been  running  when  they  disappeared  over 
the  nortliern  end  of  it.  By  the  time  I 
reached  the  end  of  the  ridge  the  main 
herd  was  a  mile  awaj-  to  the  north,  and 
still  going,  but  four  had  .separated  from 
the  band,  and  were  runiung  through  some 
hollows  that  bore  almost  diU3  east.  I  in- 
stantly determ'.ned  to  follow  these  four— 
because  I  saw  I  could  get  to  the  leeward 
of  them,  and  I  felt  they  would  event- 
ually head  north  to  rejoin  the  herd, 
A  caribou  always  circles  up  wind,  but 
musk-oxen  travel  in  any  direction  that 
necessity  demands.  Seco,  with  his  dogs, 
Avas  just  ahead  of  nu',  keeping  after  tlie 
main  band,  and  Echeena  I  had  lost  sight 
of.  I  knew  that  separation  from  the  Ind- 
ians might  cost  me  my  life,  but  musk-ox 
was  the  fir.st  and  life  the  secondary  consid- 
eration at  that  nH)ment.  And  I  started  olf 
at  my  fastest  gait  to  the  northeast,  keep- 
ing a  ridge  between  the  musk  oxen  and 
nm,  and  knowing  if  they  ci-ossed  ahead  to 
the  north  I  should  come  on  their  tracks. 

I  do  not  know  how  far  I  ran,  or  how 
long  I  ran;  1  only  remember  that  after 
a  time  the  rocks  and  the  snow  whirled 
around  me  at  such  a  ])ace  I  could  not  dis- 
tinguish where  one  began  and  the  other 
ended;  the  great,  dull,  dead  white  surface 
before  me  appearf  1  to  i-ise  and  fall,  and 
when  I  tripped  over  a  rock  I  seemed  to 
tumble  a  hundred  feet,  and  take  a  hundred 
years  to  regain  my  feet.  Sometimes  I  had 
to  pull  myself  up  on  to  my  feet  by  the  aid 
of  the  very  rock  which  perha]is  had  laid 
me  low.  Once  I  lost  my  snow-shoe,  and 
though  it  was  really  not  a  yard  away, 
I  started  in  a  I'un  after  it — it  seemed  so 
far  off.  Everything  looked  as  though  I 
was  peering  tlirough  the  wrong  end  of  my 
field-glasses.  As  I  ran,  my  eyes  pained  me 
exquisitely,  and  I  remember  the  horrible 
possibility  occurred  to  me  of  my  right  eye 
(which  is,  in  fact,  much  weaker  than  my 
left)  going  snow-blind  by  the  time  I  got 
within  shot  of  the  musk-oxen. 


732 


HARPERS    NEW    MONTHLY   MAGAZINE. 


And  ns  T  reached  tlio  bottom  of  each 
ridfjo  it  st'f)ii'"d  to  rtin  I  could  not  sti-iijr- 
H'l*!  to  the  top,  oven  thouf,''h  a  tlioiisiind 
musk-oxen  awaited  my  coiniiify,  I  was 
in  a  drippinj,''  pei'spiration,  and  had 
dropped  my  cupole  and  cartridfje-belt,  af- 
ter thrustiuf,''  half  a  dozen  oartridfjes  into 
my  trousers  i)ockets,  and  my  nine-pound 
45.!)()  weijflied  thirty.  I  hardly  knew 
whether  I  was  ffoinpf  up  ridpfos  or  down 
ridjjes.  Everythinfj:  waltzed  about  me. 
I  ran  on  and  on  in  a  sort  of  stui)or,  until, 
as  I  s'ot  to  the  top  of  a  little  rid<?e,  I  saw 
two  inusk-oxfMi  about  a  liundred  yards 
ahejul  of  and  run  nin^^  easily  though  direct- 
ly from  me.  And  then  the  blood  surg'ed 
through  my  veins,  the  mist  cleared  from 
my  eyes,  and  the  rocks  stopped  whirling" 
about  me,  for  there,  within  range,  was 
my  quarry.  I  swung  my  rifle  into  po- 
sition aiul  dropped  on  my  knee  for  surer 
aim.  Heavens!  my  hand  shook  so  the 
front  .sight  travelled  all  over  the  horizon, 
and  my  heart  thumi)ed  against  my  side 
as  though  it  would  burst. 

For  a  moment  I  rested  to  get  my  breath 
— and  the  musk-oxen  \vere  still  going  from 
me— and  then  —another  attempt— the  fore 
sight  for  an  instant  held  true — another 
secotul's  breathing — a  quick  aim — and  I 
pressed  the  trigger.  What  a  feeling  of 
exultation  as  I  saw  my  quarry  stagger  and 
then  drop!  I  was  dizzy  witli  delight.  I 
gave  vent  to  a  yell,  which,  together  with 
the  report  of  my  rifle,  .semi  the  other 
musk  ox  into  a  wild  gallop.  It  turned 
sharply  to  the  left  and  went  over  a  ridge, 
with  me  following  on  a  run,  all  the  while 
endeavoring  to  throw  another  cartridge 
into  my  ritle  barrel.  But  the  excessive 
cold,  aided  by  my  excitement,  handicapped 
the  mechanism,  and  the  shell  jammed. 

By  the  time  I  had  sent  the  cartridge 
home,  running  meanwhile,  I  got  over  the 
ric'ge,  and  was  just  drawing  a  bead  on 
the  jalioping  musk-ox,  when  two  shots  in 
quick  succession  turned  it  staggering,  and 
as  it  dropi)ed  I  sent  a  bullet  where  it 
would  do  tlfe  most  good — just  as  Echeena 
and  one  dog  came  running  down  from  a 
ridge  opposite.  So  that  I  and  Echeena 
had  the  honor  of  scoring  the  first  and 
secoiul  musk-ox.  Then  I  went  back  over 
the  ridge  to  look  at  the  one  I  had  brought 
down.  It  was  a  cow.  The  sex  was  a 
disappointment,  to  be  sure,  and  I  should 
not  take  this  head  that  had  cost  me  so 
much  to  secure;  but  nothing  could  dull 
the  joy  of  having,  after  a  tramp  of  (about) 


twelve  hundred  miles,  killed  the  most  in- 
accessible beast  in  the  whole  wide  world. 

After  1  had  made  sure  the  musk-cow 
was  really  dead,  I  started  again  and  to 
the  north,  hoping  I  might  get  on  the  (rack 
of  the  other  two  or  some  other  strag- 
glers from  the  nuiin  herd.  Probably  I 
went  several  miles  farther,  buoj'ed  up 
by  the  excitement  of  my  success,  but  saw 
the  tracks  of  no  living  thing. 

The  sun  was  setting  as  I  turned 
around  to  go  back  to  my  musk -cow, 
where  I  supi)osed  the  Indians  would 
bring  up  sledges  and  camp,  and  I  had 
walked  some  time  when  I  realized  that, 
other  than  going  south,  I  had  Jiot  the 
remotest  idea  in  what  precise  direction  I 
was  travelling,  or  just  where  that  musk- 
cow  lay.  I  could  not  afford  to  waste 
any  time  or  lose  myself,  for  I  had  no 
ca])ote,  and  the  wind  I  was  now  facing 
had  frozen  my  perspiration -.soaked  shirts 
as  stilV  and  hai-d  as  boards.  So  I 
turned  about  and  puzzled  out  my  always 
half  and  sometimes  wholly  obliterated 
snow-shoe  tracks  back  to  my  fallen 
quarry,  where  I  arrived  about  Jiine 
o'clock,  to  find,  sure  enough,  the  lodge 
pitched  and  the  Indians  feasting  on  raw 
and  half-frozen  musk-ox  fat. 

Gnawing  a  piece  of  this  fat,  and  hardly 
able  to  crawl  with  the  cold  and  fatigue, 
I  followed  back  my  tracks  from  here 
until  I  found  my  capote  and  belt.  It 
was  nearly  midnight  before  Seco,  badly 
frozen,  turned  up  to  report  the  killing  of 
two  musk-oxen,  and  we  had  tea  (for  the 
little  fire  is  never  kindled  until  all  are  in, 
because  the  tea  would  freeze  in  a  very 
few  minutes  after  making).  Several  of 
the  men  were  snow-blind,  and  what  Avilh 
their  groans,  the  fighting  of  the  dogs  over 
the  frozen  tnusk-cow,  mj'  ice-coated  shirts, 
to  thaw  which  there  was  not  warmth 
enough  in  my  body,  and  a  (i7°  below  zero 
temperature,  the  night  of  our  first  musk- 
ox  killing  was  memorable. 

I  had  now  killed  this  most  inaccessible 
of  all  game,  and  therefore  attained  the 
prime  object  of  my  trip  to  the  Barren 
Grounds. 

We  continued  north  anotlier  week, 
having  other  hunting  adventures;  and 
when  we  finally  tui-ncd  southward,  had 
penetrated  two  daj's  beyond  the  arctic 
cii'cle.  We  made  our  way  back  on  snow- 
shoes  to  Great  Slave  Lake,  where  I  left  the 
party,  and  by  canoe  pusiied  on  to  the  fron- 
tier, reaching  Edmonton  June  12tb. 


